


Four Idiots in a House

by miyaji_08



Series: Seventh Sense Climbing [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Demons, Housemates, M/M, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, fyi i only tagged characters with plot significance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-06-03 08:30:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 40,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6603964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miyaji_08/pseuds/miyaji_08
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bokuto is a werewolf. Kuroo is a vampire. Akaashi is a witch. Oikawa is a demon.</p>
<p>And none of them know that the others aren’t human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So...agh. This was long. I'm very happy with how it turned out though, and I hope you enjoy it! Now that this is done, I can continue updating KnBookshop. 
> 
> Please R&R! Comments mean the world to me :) also any suggestions for future fics make me super happy!

Bokuto is a simple man. He likes eating good food, being around attractive and funny people, and enjoying life’s simple but meaningful pleasures. Most of his time is spent either out hunting at night or in the archives, where he works a few hours a week to earn rent money and look into his family history. His hobbies include cooking and volleyball.

 

His housemates are simple people too, in his opinion. Kuroo’s tall and tan with wild dark hair; he works for the police as a private mortician with his assistant Kenma. He visits Bokuto at work sometimes, too, adding to the archives and editing ones that are wrong. He has a rowdy sense of humor that never fades, only gets more or less sadistic depending on his mood.

 

Akaashi is similar to Kuroo physically, except for being almost a foot shorter and having pale skin. Bokuto is pretty sure he works at the library downtown. He reads a lot—like, a lot a lot, and has strange eating habits which includes food too spicy for most people to eat, and chocolate bitter enough to make Bokuto and Kuroo’s faces pinch up in distaste. 

 

Oikawa, with his bright personality, is different from all three of them. He has perfectly styled, soft brown hair and dark gold eyes. His skin is pale, but not as pale as Akaashi’s. Out of the four of them he’s the most charming, at least around people who he isn’t close with. He has no apparent job but sometimes he disappears for a few hours and comes back worse for wear.

 

It’s an unspoken rule in the house not to ask him about those disappearances. Just like they ignore when Akaashi mutters strange words in foreign languages, or when Kuroo gets into strange moods and storms out for an hour or so, or when Bokuto leaves for the woods at midnight and reappears at dawn.

 

Yeah. They’re simple people living simple lives in a simple town.

 

Bokuto repeats these words to himself as he thuds through the woods, the moon rising high above his head. He pauses only once to transform and quickly scrape a ward into the bark of an old tree. If he says the right words, it will activate a protection spell that renders supernaturals powerless—a handy trick if he ever gets bogged down by a demon or magic-backed hunter. He transforms back and continues on.

 

_I wonder if Oikawa decided to bake again_. Oikawa’s been going through a baking fad—apple pie, toasted apple crumble, apple fritter—and it’s going to make them all fat.

 

“Oh?” A sharp, familiar voice flickers in and out of the darkness. Bokuto whips around and snarls instinctively, his claws sinking into the soft earth. “I didn’t know wolves inhabited this part of the forest. But then again, you don’t seem to have a pack.”

 

He does. They just don’t really know it.

 

“Oh? Is that so?” The voice is almost teasing, and Bokuto realizes the creature must be a vampire. A quasi-mindreader. “Ohoho. You’re smart, aren’t you? Well then, might as well stand on equal ground.” The vampire steps forward into the pale moonlight.

 

Wolf vision distorts the other supernatural—Bokuto usually can’t recognize people in his other form—but he has a gut feeling he should know who this is. With a quick mental push he blocks the vampire from reading his mind any longer and growls again, lower and more possessive. _Get out of my territory_. They’re too close to home; Bokuto doesn’t want the threat of a vampire looming over his pack.

 

“Oh, don’t worry.” A lonely sigh. “All my—hm… All my lovers are human, so I come out here to when the thirst is too strong.”

 

Huh?

 

“Yep! I’m a strict vegetarian. Impressive, right?” A leering grin. “You know, I envy you. You get to change back. The urges leave you for most of the month; at least that’s what I’ve heard. My hunger never ceases, not even when I desperately want it to.” 

 

Bokuto cocks his head to the side. In the distance, when he focuses hard, he can hear the rustling of covers as Akaashi wakes up from a dream and pads down the stairs to the kitchen. He’s making tea, probably. The vampire seems to hear it too.

 

“See you later, mister Wolf.” He says. Then it’s a quick flash, leaves drifting up in the swirl of wind, and he’s gone. Bokuto is alone once more.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

“Listen,” Oikawa says through crumbs of cinnamon apple cake, “I’m not saying I’m not going. I’m just saying that I’m not going _inside_.”

 

“Please, Oikawa?” Akaashi perseveres.

 

Oikawa pauses from throwing the last of the cake into his mouth. “No,” he says promptly, and pops it in. Akaashi rolls his eyes, fingers idly tracing the contours of his newest book.

 

“Oh? What is this?” Kuroo swoops in and crowds Akaashi by the counter, resting his chin on the latter’s head. Oikawa sits on the counter with his legs spread, licking the cinnamon sugar from his fingertips. “C’mon, Oikawa. He even dropped the honorifics.”

 

“I already told him, just like I did yesterday: I am going. I am not going into the church. I’m not getting near the front door. _I_ am staying in the car.” Oikawa stubbornly throws his head to the side in a pout. “Churches are strict, they’re mean, they’re _no fun_. I’m the last person who should be in one.”

 

Kuroo raises an eyebrow. “You know,” he says, “he has a point.”

 

“This is important to me.” Akaashi murmurs. “It’s just this once.”

 

Oikawa doesn’t budge. Kuroo whistles and sneaks his own piece of cake, one of the edge pieces with a thick swab of cinnamon icing. 

 

“Man,” he says to Oikawa as he licks the top of the cake. The icing melts like butter on his tongue. “You’re heartless.”

 

“Carpe Diem,” Oikawa snarks back. “I’m not wasting my time in a religion that has no place for me.”

 

“You’re wasting just as much time outside the church as you would be in,” Bokuto calls from the couch.

 

“No.” Oikawa grumbles. “I’m going to the church, I’m not going _in_ the church, and that’s final!”

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

“You know, I thought he’d be more trouble than this,” Kuroo mutters to Akaashi and Bokuto from inside the church. Fading light filters through the burgundy stain glass windows, barely allowing the building enough light to see.

 

“Me too,” Bokuto agrees, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at Oikawa’s stiff back. “I can practically smell it. He’s super uncomfortable!” 

 

Akaashi, for his part, feels at least a little guilty. He wants to ask about it. But also, that whole ‘not talking about it’ thing has been great for not explaining his spellbooks. 

 

“The sermon today isn’t long,” He murmurs. “He’ll be fine.”

 

He waits until after the holy water. Amusingly enough, both Oikawa and Kuroo try to refuse dipping their hands. Akaashi has to elbow both of them, and Kuroo at least makes a show of properly wetting his to appease the pastor. Oikawa’s hands dart in and out so fast Akaashi can’t even see them.

 

After a word or two of the sermon, Akaashi mutters a quick spell and feels his spirit detach from his body. He casts a charm so he still looks awake and several warding spells (though the holy water should do a good job of keeping his body from unwelcome hosts), and then he moves so he’s standing in front of Oikawa.

 

He pats his palm against Oikawa’s forehead and chants a few times. After placing protective wards on him—Akaashi’s run into more than a few angry creatures in his time here—he goes to slip on the silver implant. In case of a werewolf, wayward IsanGoma, Kalku, or even demon attack, the implant will cast away the negative energies. However, as Akaashi’s fingers try to dip under the skin, they burn. The spiritual flesh on Oikawa’s arm begins to fray and burn too, and Akaashi quickly retracts his hand. 

 

Oh well. Some people simply don’t react well to spells.

 

He continues on with Bokuto. Putting his palm against the other’s forehead he murmurs the incantations, but when he tries once more to put in a silver implant, the skin rejects it. This time, however, the spiritual skin begins to actually decay. Akaashi is horrified, and quickly throws the silver far away and heals the wound. Bokuto shifts in his seat and stares at his arm in confusion, before turning back to the sermon. His eyes stare through Akaashi’s translucent stomach, unseeing.

 

Akaashi doesn’t even try with Kuroo. Always one to skip the dramatics, he instead places his palm against Kuroo’s forehead for the spell and then returns to his body, mentally and spiritually drained from the expenditures. 

 

At least with these wards he doesn’t have to worry about things like demons and vampires for a while, now.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

A Tuesday afternoon finds Bokuto at a cafe on the edge of town, watching the early October weather and prodding at a bruise on his arm. Over to his left Akaashi surveys the little paper menu and bats his stunningly long eyelashes.

 

“So…” Bokuto starts, but all the words leave his mouth when Akaashi looks up at him. He’s well aware that out of all his housemates, he knows Akaashi the least. They hang out the most! It’s just probably because they rarely hold long conversations. But it’s for a good reason! Kuroo’s hot and dark and Oikawa’s drop-dead gorgeous, but Akaashi’s _Akaashi_. He’s just…so pretty. It makes Bokuto’s heart hurt.

 

“So?” Akaashi asks, raising an eyebrow. God, even his voice makes Bokuto want to melt into a puddle on the cold sidewalk.

 

“I—uh—“ Bokuto scrambles furiously for something to talk about when he remembers what Kuroo advised. _Just be yourself. You’re gonna embarrass yourself either way, might as well own it._ “Sorry! Please don’t hate me!”

 

Akaashi stares at him. “What?”

 

“I just—I know it probably seems like I avoid you or something!” Bokuto quickly elaborates. “And I kind of do! It’s just, you’re so _pretty_ and it makes my heart beat too fast and then I get nervous and can’t think and I don’t want you to think I’m an idiot or something so I just—yeah…” He blows air in his cheeks. “Just…so you know. ‘cause we’re housemates and I—I really want us to get along.”

 

It looks like Akaashi swallowed a bug. “Bokuto-kun,” he huffs a little. “I don’t hate you.”

 

“You…you don’t?”

 

“No. I am confused, though.” He leans back in his chair right as the waitress comes out to take their orders. Once she’s gone, he continues. “You never seem nervous when we talk?”

 

Ah. “It kind of only happens when we’re alone.”

 

“Really?”

 

“I-it’s not like I always had trouble! It’s just that, recently it’s been getting worse. And I still really like you and I don’t want you to hate me because I really like spending time with you. And K-cat. And Oikawa.”

 

Akaashi smiles gently over at him, eyes warm, and reaches over to squeeze his hand. “Bokuto-kun, I feel the exact same way about you. To be honest, you three make me very nervous. My heart beats fast and I overthink everything I do.”

 

“You do?”

 

“I do.”

 

Bokuto chews this over for a minute. 

 

“We’re both being really stupid, aren’t we?” He finally asks. Akaashi’s smile morphs to a little grin.

 

“I believe we are.” He agrees. “ Now then. Since you’ve been so open with me, how about I pay for the both of us?”

 

Bokuto grins at him. “It’s a date!”

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

Kuroo honestly feels like throwing up. His entire mouth is dry and pasty, and his fangs have begun to prick out and stab his tongue. 

 

“So, what is it? What’s wrong with me?” He asks, leaning back in the wheely desk chair. Kenma gets back to his feet and looks at his charts before huffing a little. Which, in Kenma-talk, is practically a holler of laughter. “Huh? What is it?”

 

“Someone seems to have cast protection spells on you, Tetsurou.” Kenma allows a tiny smile. “They’re mostly to ward off supernatural creatures.”

 

“You’re kidding me,” Kuroo groans. “So what, one of my housemates just decided to see if they could for fun and ended up casting a real, actual spell?” He rolls his eyes. “I bet it was Oikawa. He has way too much time on his hands.”

 

Kenma shakes his head. “This magic is more refined. I would say this is closer to Keiji’s style.”

 

“Huh.” Kuroo laughs a little. “Learn something new every day.”

 

“It looks like…” Kenma pauses, his light brown eyes glinting. The glow of his DS shadows his face in a spooky way. “It looks like he performed this during an OBE.”

 

Kuroo stares.

 

“Wait. What?”

 

“Tetsurou.” Kenma warns. He really doesn’t like repeating himself.

 

“No. I’m serious, repeat yourself. What do you mean, OBE? You mean someone yanked his soul out? Or is it a full-fledged witch that we’re dealing with?” Kuroo’s eyes narrow.

 

“I’m sure Keiji is—“

 

“Oh, he sure is.” Kuroo interrupts. The information digests slowly, and his lips curve into a grin. “No. You know what? This is…this is good. This is great! I could use a witch, I’m sure he wants the experience.”

 

“You want to work with him?” Kenma asks, raising an eyebrow.

 

Kuroo shrugs. “If he’s willing to.” A wave of nausea washes over him. “Okay, okay, just, can you take the spell off now? I’m slowly dying over here.”

 

“Vampires can’t die,” Kenma says unsympathetically, but he waves his hands and mutters some backwards latin in a basic, human-friendly spell. The nausea fades quickly from Kuroo’s limbs. 

 

“You know I love you right?” Kuroo thanks him, squeezing the little man in a tight embrace. “So, what new case do I have? That’s why you called me, right?”

 

 

xxxxxxxx

 

 

“Excuse me?” Akaashi freezes from his spot in the kitchen, the steam rising from his mug of tea. Bokuto and Oikawa are out apple picking (Oikawa really needs to get over his addiction).

 

“You heard me.” Kuroo’s lounging on the sofa, letting the warmth of the crackling brick fireplace keep him from shivering. “I want you to hunt a werewolf with me.”

 

Akaashi stares at him for a long time before joining him on the couch, pressing carefully to his side. “What do you know?” He asks quietly.

 

“Not much,” Kuroo admits. “I know you’re a witch, and a pretty powerful one at that. From the hidden archives I’m pretty sure a—what, a demon of some sort?—wiped out your old coven, which explains why you moved here.”

 

“It was a demon,” Akaashi confirms, letting his knees curl up to his chest. He can feel the warmth radiating off of Kuroo’s side and tucks himself into it. “A blasphemy.”

 

“Damn,” Kuroo lets out a low whistle. He presses their shoulders together in comfort. “If it helps, I know the feeling.” He rolls up the sleeve of his black henley, revealing a savage bite mark. “Vampires wiped out my entire family—close and extended. I was the only survivor.”

 

“That’s the reason you hunt?”

 

“It’s one.”

 

“And the others?”

 

Kuroo grins lopsidedly. Before answering, he leans down and presses his lips to the corner of Akaashi’s mouth. “Not to get sappy, but you three and Kenma are pretty much the closest thing I have to family. I’d like to keep you all in one piece.” He sighs. “Even if Oikawa tries to make it as hard as possible.”

 

Ah. Akaashi thinks back to all the crosses Oikawa’s thrown out, all the light sprinklings of salt he’s swept away before completion (“Oh, come on. This is going to make all the wood shelving in the house brittle! Plus, it looks stupid”). He keeps discarding the protective charms Akaashi’s been slipping in his pocket and bags.

 

“…and what has the wolf done?” Akaashi wonders. Kuroo leans back.

 

“I met one a while back when I was out one night. He seemed pretty lax, wasn’t out hunting people, just rabbits and deer. But yesterday morning, a body was found. Wolf attack.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“Yeah. So. Will you help me? I promise I won’t let—“

 

“I trust you,” Akaashi interrupts with a smile. “Of course I’ll—“

 

“WE’RE BACK!” Bokuto hollers, slamming the front door open. When he and Oikawa stomp in, wind-ruffled and soaked from the rain, he stops and asks, “oh, did we interrupt something?”

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

“God, I hate crowds,” Oikawa grumbles. It’s a Saturday morning, and even though he almost religiously reserves weekends for lounging around here he is, out in the town with Akaashi. They’re shopping in the nearby city—after Kuroo’s rattling revelation the night before, Akaashi needs an escape from the house.

 

He smiles and fights off the urge to peck Oikawa on the cheek. The brunette looks adorable—hair wind-ruffled, the skin of his cheeks soft as he puffs them into a haughty pout. 

 

“I only need a few things,” Akaashi assures. He coughs as a perfume agent sprays her sample too close to his face. “Thank you for coming with me.”

 

“You’re just lucky you’re so pretty,” Oikawa grumbles.

 

They turn the corner in the department store and enter the makeup section. 

 

Akaashi doesn’t like to advertise it, but he has to use a fair amount of skin products to keep his looks the way they are. Around Kuroo and Bokuto, two naturally hot and masculine people, and Oikawa, arguably the most sensual being in existence, Akaashi can’t help but feel pale in comparison.

 

“Hey,” Oikawa says, picking up a bottle of moisturizer. “This is a good brand.”

 

Akaashi takes a curious glance; it’s a logo he’s never seen before. He exits the stream of foot traffic to get a better look. 

 

“Is it?” He asks, grabbing his own bottle and scanning the ingredients. 

 

“Well, when I had really bad redness it worked.” Oikawa recalls, rubbing his chin in thought. He stares down at Akaashi through pretty honey-colored eyes and adds, “then again, that’s not really an issue for you. Lucky.”

 

“I—thanks,” Akaashi blushes. The compliment means a lot, coming from the brunette. “But really, Oikawa-kun, your skin looks perfect. I can’t imagine it’s ever looked otherwise.”

 

“Yeah, but that look years of trying out different stuff! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been hot as fuck, but your skin is way nicer than mine since it’s olive toned.”

 

He doesn’t even look like he’s trying to compliment anyone; as he speaks, Oikawa continues to scan the brand products with scrutinizing eyes. In the end it’s not a question for the brunette: he’s just stating the facts. It’s one of the many reasons Akaashi loves his roommate.

 

“Oh,” he blinks as his favorite brand catches his eye. Oikawa follows his gaze and drags them over to the stand. 

 

He picks up a bottle. “This stuff?” He asks, and when Akaashi nods he looks it over. “Hm. Never tried it.”

 

With another glance he hands the bottle over to Akaashi and sits down on one of the makeup-testing chairs, closing his eyes and leaning forward. Akaashi stares, trembling a little at how cute Oikawa looks like that—how much it looks like he’s waiting for a kiss.

 

“Well?” Oikawa asks impatiently, keeping his eyes closed. “I wanna try it! Do whatever you do when you use it.”

 

With a quiet sigh of realization, Akaashi uncaps the bottle and squeezes some of the lotion onto his fingertips. He spreads it over Oikawa’s cheeks gently until it’s evenly dispersed; there’s magic in the way Oikawa’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks.

 

Akaashi can’t help himself. Before he realizes what he’s doing he leans forward and presses a quick kiss to Oikawa’s mouth. It’s sweet—Oikawa’s lips are soft and unsuspecting, given in the way they press forward uncertainly. When a woman nearby giggles they snap apart like a rubber band, Akaashi turning beet red as Oikawa stares ahead dazedly and brushes his fingertips against his lips.

 

“Let’s pretend—“ they both start, then cut off and stare at each other. When the silence is too much Oikawa bursts into laughter.

 

“I think I see the spot stuff you want over there, let’s go,” he says once he’s calmed down. Akaashi smiles because although they’re both too embarrassed to make eye contact, their hands are linked as Oikawa drags him away.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

“What do you mean, he’s getting closer?” Oikawa growls. “How is he getting closer? Why hasn’t he given up?” He pauses, palms running over the thick iron gates into the underworld. “Why the hell did no one tell me he was still at it?”

 

Kunimi crosses his arms and glares at Oikawa, not even bothering to answer. Oikawa feels a great urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

 

“He’s still…after all this time.” Oikawa stands up and shakes off his excess negative energy. He usually tries to keep it neutral around his housemates, but with whatever asshole’s wards throwing him off, it’s hard. “Guess there’s no choice, huh? I’ll try and talk him down.”

 

“…I’m going with you,” Kunimi says.

 

“I don’t need—“

 

“I’m going with you.” 

 

Well then.

 

Oikawa opens up a portal from the darkness with a casual wave of the hand and steps into the light. Kunimi sticks close to his side, never having liked being in the sun. Oikawa enlargens his shadow to protect the little demon.

 

“Iwa-c—Iwaizumi.” Oikawa says bravely, letting his arms hang at his sides. For some reason he can feel a tugging in his fingers. 

 

The angel whips around at the sound of his voice, eyes hot with fury. “You IDIOT!” He barks, running forward. Before he reaches them Oikawa steps backwards into the half-visible shadow gates blocking the heavens and the underworld. “NO! Stop running away from me! I can h—“

 

“No one can help a demon, Iwa-chan. Not even you.”

 

“We can beat the bastard together, you—“

 

“We both know that isn’t true,” Oikawa bites out, his face smashing in a mixture of anger and frustration. “And I’m not letting you fight him. Not after—“ his eyes fall to the scar running its way down Iwaizumi’s back, cleanly between his wings. “You can’t lose them…and if there’s even a slight chance you could, I’m not—“ he pauses again when he notices that he lost control of his little horns and devil’s tail. With a frown he hides them again; the tugging sensation in his hands increases.

 

“But Ushijima is just another demon. Once you kill him, you have no creator and you can—“

 

“ _I DON’T WANT TO KILL HIM, IWA-CHAN!_ ” Oikawa yells, fingernails leaving bloody crescents in his palms. “We’ve been over this! He can’t. Be. Killed. If I kill him, all of his creations could fall to ME!”

 

“But—“

 

“ _Please_ , Iwa-c—Iwaizumi. Go back. You won’t get through.” Oikawa stares tiredly, almost submissively at Iwaizumi when suddenly the ground is gone and he’s slipping through portals and air like quicksand. He sees Kunimi’s hand stretching out, but the little halfling isn’t a quarter fast enough to reach him in time. 

 

Someone is summoning a demon. Oikawa rolls in the summoner’s hold angrily, the friction of space making his skin hot, and he tries to grasp where he’s headed when—

 

Oh, _fuck_.

 

With a burst of dark energy Oikawa breaks out of the summoner’s hold and rolls at the last second. It’s not enough to avoid the general location, but at least he won’t end up in the right room…

 

xxxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

“Did you hear that?” Kuroo asks, glancing up at the ceiling. The loud thud still echoes in the living room where he and Akaashi sit by the fire, sinking into the thick rug with a leatherbound spellbook between them.

 

“Yes,” Akaashi says noncommittally. He’s too focused on figuring out what went wrong with the spell, which should have worked perfectly. His hand is shaking and bruised from where the demon fought his hold. “I suppose we ended up snagging a demon on the higher end of the food chain by accident. My mistake.” 

 

Before he can reiterate the spell, the sound of feet pounding down the stairs appears. Oikawa slides at the bottom in his socks, catching himself before he slips and dashing into the living room. Akaashi closes the book before he can see what it is.

 

“You’re doing black magic!” Oikawa accuses loudly, jerking his finger at them.

 

“You’re rather pale, Oikawa-kun. Are you getting enough rest?”

 

“Don’t try and confuse me! I know you’re practicing black magic! I…I swear I just saw a ghost in my room! Stop it!”

 

“Don’t worry, it’s not an angry ghost.” Kuroo smirks. “If you’re that scared, come huddle up by Daddy Kuroo, he’ll keep you safe.”

 

Oikawa, for once, is appropriately creeped out. He takes a step away. “Ew, Kuro-chan. Ew. Now back to—“

 

“I’M HOME! LET’S GET ITALIAN!” Bokuto shouts from the doorway. The trio turn to look at him, but Oikawa’s quick to turn back around and make sure the subject isn’t dropped.

 

“No! We aren’t dropping this! Why are you two doing black magic?!” 

 

Bokuto moves further into the house. “Black magic?” 

 

“Not really,” Kuroo waves him down. “ _Oikawa-chan_ is worrying for nothing.”

 

“I’m not! I saw a gh—“ They all freeze. 

 

Bokuto, although very brave, is deathly afraid of ghosts. He thinks haunted houses are the most fascinating, cool things ever until the sun sets and he’s terrified out of his mind.

 

“A—a—“ Oikawa continues to struggle, looking to Kuroo and Akaashi for help. They both watch him flatly. “A ghastly!”

 

“A ghastly?” Bokuto tilts his head to the side. “…like, the Pokémon? Um…”

 

“Just—they—UGH. Never mind.” Oikawa storms out of the living room. Kuroo leans back and laughs.

 

“Anyway, let’s not get Italian tonight. I hate Italian.” He folds his arms over his chest, an ornate cross bracelet dangling from his left wrist.

 

“Who hates Italian?! You love pasta!” Bokuto protests. He unwraps his handknit scarf and lays it out on the back of the couch, quickly followed by his thick jacket. “C’mon, pleaaaaase? I’ll make it! I really want Italian chicken breast.”

 

Kuroo sighs. “Fine,” he grumbles. “Just remember to leave out the garlic this time, okay?”

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

It’s a full moon again. Frost pricks up from tree branches and fallen leaves, crunching under their boots. The air is still and cold; perfect for tracking. 

 

“We can still wait,” Akaashi points out quietly. He’s shivering in his turtleneck and wool coat, and Kuroo instinctively wraps an arm around and drags him farther away from the shadows. He wishes he didn’t have to bring the witch out at night, but it’s easier with their housemates being asleep. “I’d rather bring a demon under our power just in case he’s feral.”

 

“It could be a she,” Kuroo says. It’s true; they could wait for a demon. After all, even though not many things can take down a werewolf, a demon has a higher chance than either of them do. But Kuroo has a feeling that tonight should be the night they do it. “Come on. I think it’s this—“ 

 

He’s interrupted by the angry snarl of a wolf. Two face each other down—one a werewolf, obviously, with brown and white fur and haunting gold eyes: the same one he met that night. The other is massive, almost the size of a bear, with thick, coarse black fur and snarling red eyes.

 

Demon. And a shape-shifting one at that.

 

“Shit,” Kuroo hisses. Looks like the wolf he met earlier isn’t the culprit after all. Just like a demon to frame another creature for murder. He feels Akaashi stumble back out of his grip, trembling, and decides to follow. 

 

The demon’s eyes snap to their moving figures and it lunges toward them; Kuroo braces himself, his fangs sharpening like razors on quick instinct, but before contact is made the werewolf surges between them and tackles it. They roll together in a snarling, thrashing mess, before the demon gains the upper hand and slams the wolf into a tree. There’s a gasp, a snap, and suddenly a pale hand is reaching out and smacks the tree loudly. A sizzling noise, and the demon is gone. Kuroo and Akaashi stare in shock at the werewolf, the fur now completely replaced by scarred, thick tan skin.

 

Bokuto, naked and bloody, stares back at them. Corded muscles tighten and bulge in his arms as he shifts around, spread out on his side the way he’d fallen but trying to curl in on himself. His eyes grow wide with fear but he can’t run away. The wounds in his side and back are too great, and he shuffles fervently away when they take a few steps forward. His head shakes; he puts out his hands to ward them off. 

 

There’s a bloody handprint where he pressed his palm to the ward on the tree. Kuroo blinks slowly and processes the complexity of the pack ward, how it was strong enough to vanquish a demon.

 

“N-no! No! I don’t hurt people!” Bokuto coughs, looking frantically between them. Hurt flashes over his face, but he continues to speak. “I don’t! I—I just come out here to get it out of my system! Please don’t make me leave!”

 

Akaashi kneels several yards away, hands still shaking as he holds them together. He glances at the ward the other made; it’s complicated magic, a brand coveted and hidden among the werewolf clans.

 

“Bokuto-san,” he says with an unsteady voice, “we would never dream of sending you away. I just want to check your injuries.”

 

It makes them feel sick, how relieved Bokuto seems. He almost melts into the tree, relaxed now that he has a better grasp on the situation. Kuroo remembers the first time someone found out his own identity; he hadn’t been nearly as trusting. “No, I’ll heal. So…just…please stay over there?”

 

Kuroo sits down next to Akaashi on the cold hard ground.

 

“Look, Bo, we just want to make sure no one gets killed. That’s why we came out here in the first place. You good? I have someone I can call if you aren’t.”

 

Bokuto looks uncertain. “I’m telling you guys, it’s…it’s ok.”

 

“Okay.” Kuroo sighs. He leans back on his hands and laughs up at the full moon. “Man. A werewolf, a witch, and a vampire all under the same roof? What are the fucking odds?” He laughs some more. “Now Oikawa just needs to be a merman or something and we’ve got a full set.”

 

“Don’t jinx it,” Akaashi mutters, and Bokuto snorts, though the pair heard the way his breath hitched at ‘vampire’. Kuroo settles more weight on his palms, fingers digging into the cold earth. He takes a deep breath to keep from getting overwhelmed before opening his mouth to speak.

 

“…this totally means I’m calling you B-dawg from now on.”

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

It’s after Kenma’s advice that they get an honest-to-god oujia board. Something to at least mediate the spirits with, something to communicate through. Dark and dusty, it hides under the couch so Oikawa won’t find it.

 

They really weren’t expecting it to work so well.

 

It’s dark and stormy—classic October weather for them—even though it’s only six. Oikawa’s out again and Bokuto’s busy at work, but Akaashi and Kuroo agreed to try it out while it’s just the two of them. They’re sitting on the couch with it between them and thinking about where to begin. Salt lines their doorways and windows.

 

“We could just, y’know, ask it to bring us a demon?” Kuroo suggests, leaning back on his hands and staring down at the board in morose interest. “Like, a really nice demon?”

 

Akaashi shakes his head. “There’s no way to specify that,” he says with a little smile. Kuroo notices before the other can smother it and leans forward to poke his cheek.

 

“You should smile more,” he says. “Better for your health.” 

 

Akaashi stares at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He glances down to Kuroo’s mouth and the vampire fights to keep from moving his lips, though he does lean away from the witch. After another few moments he breaks into a smirk.

 

“Are you scared?” He teases, leaning back in dangerously to brush his lips against Akaashi’s soft, pale skin. The other doesn’t lean away, simply closes his eyes and hums. Honestly, Kuroo’s been wondering if it bothers Akaashi, him being a vampire. If they’ll go back to normal after they hunt down the demon. Not to mention Bokuto, who’s done an excellent job of clinging to Oikawa like a limpet to avoid them.

 

Kuroo doesn’t get a chance to say anything more, because the piece on the board moves. They both freeze, eyes wide, and stare down at it as it slides around to the ‘U’.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

Kunimi glares at the board from the window outside the house. His bones ache from keeping his stupid creator at bay, and from trying to hold onto Oikawa as he was summoned. And to find Oikawa’s two housemates getting into something they shouldn’t…

 

“Idiots,” he mutters, shifting the piece again with the twitch of his fingers. Since he’d been called while in the earthly realm, he can’t get past the salt lines. It’s extremely annoying. They very obviously are bad at summoning demons. The piece slides smoothly over the ’s’, then the ‘h’, ‘i’, and ‘j’—

 

“Kunimi.”

 

He freezes, to afraid to turn around. Inside the house Kuroo seems to sense something because he turns with a scary look on his face: the look of someone whose precious things have been threatened by the unknown. Akaashi is asking what’s wrong. 

 

As long as they stay in the house, they’ll be fine. The same can’t be said for Kunimi.

 

“You are not supposed to be here.” Ushijima says, his voice emotionless. “I have very few rules.”

 

Silence. _How did he find me?_ Kunimi stares right into Kuroo’s eyes, both hoping that he can see what is happening and that he can’t. There’s only one way out of this now, before Ushijima picks up Oikawa’s scent and realizes that this is his new residence. 

 

“You don’t own me,” Kunimi says softly. He lets his fingers sharpen into dark daggers and grimaces at what he’s about to do. “I want to be human, like them. I want to live in a town like this one, small and happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” It’s all lies, of course. But he needs to give a reason, so that Ushijima won’t realize why he’s outside this house in particular. “And I’d rather be anywhere else than be your slave.”

 

Biting his lip to keep from further alerting Kuroo’s sharp senses, Kunimi plunges his fingers into his chest and rips out his heart. It’s a throbbing black-and-red mess, shadowy and leaking an ink-like substance that’s thick like honey and pools on the ground. He makes a choking noise in his throat and Kuroo’s head swivels in their direction.

 

Throwing his heart into the ground, the portal opens and Kunimi is whisked away. Ushijima’s dangerous hand closes in on thin air.

 

 

xxxxxxx

 

_“Okay, okay, I’ll try and get him to leave soon.”_ Bokuto agrees, _“but it might take a while.”_

 

“That’s fine. Just come home as soon as possible.” Akaashi sighs before hanging up. When he glances over his shoulder Kuroo is still by the window, his sharp fingernails digging into the sill hard enough to leave wedges in the wood.

 

“Something was here,” he growls. “I don’t like it.” With that, he grabs Akaashi’s wrist and tugs him closer. Akaashi tilts his head to the side, wondering what’s triggered Kuroo’s more primal instincts. A demon…? Or perhaps another vampire? No matter. Vampire or human, he understands the desire to keep others in range of protection.

 

“You say that,” Kuroo grins, “but you’re the one who’s put up a shit ton of protection spells.”

 

Akaashi shrugs, unembarrassed at the semi-mind reading. “I’d put up demon wards, but they would probably draw more attention than they would prevent.” His lips curl up slightly when Kuroo’s grip on his wrist tightens, as if he can still sense something there. “So it’s true vampires can read minds?” 

 

Kuroo shrugs this time, drawing Akaashi closer until he’s forced to sit half on the window seat, half on Kuroo’s lap. “Not for me. Vampires who feed off humans can get a semi-good sense of what others are thinking, but I have to focus to get an extremely unreliable reading. And by the way, it’s not mind reading, it’s our heightened senses that let us read people better.” He stiffens slightly when Akaashi leans back into his chest, resting there quietly.

 

“And your senses…other vampires would be able to see if there was a hidden demon?”

 

“Normally, yes,” Kuroo answers hesitantly, wrapping an arm around Akaashi’s middle to keep him from sliding off. He doesn’t have to be a mind reader to know where this is going. It becomes even more obvious when Akaashi’s head tilts to the side, revealing his slim, pale neck.

 

“Do it. We need to know if something’s still here, or else it might still be here when Oikawa and Bokuto get back.” He murmurs. Kuroo’s pupils dilate and he swallows, staring at that pale neck…

 

No. Akaashi doesn’t know what he’s doing, doesn’t know what this means…Kuroo bites his lip painfully hard to keep himself rooted. “You don’t understand—“

 

Akaashi cuts him off when he twists around and presses his lips to Kuroo’s. When he pulls back, they have equally surprised expressions. He recovers first, though, and adds a quiet, “I don’t have to. I trust you.” If that weren’t brazen enough, he drags his shirt off one of his shoulders and leans forward until the crook between his neck and shoulder is pressed firmly against Kuroo’s lips.

 

Kuroo nearly sees white. A painful burn spreads through his entire body as he forces himself not to grip Akaashi too hard. He closes his eyes and opens his mouth, sucking on the spot first to numb it. Akaashi’s pleased moan is muffled and distant. Kuroo hasn’t drank from a human in years.

 

“Don’t move,” he manages to whisper before his teeth sink into Akaashi’s beautifully pale skin. Blood surfaces immediately when his fangs retract, and he sucks hard and long at the spot. His limbs burst with energy and his head rings as the human blood interacts with his own. He nearly chokes, but manages to recover in time to swipe his tongue over the puncture wounds. When he pulls back his throat constricts: Akaashi’s normally even face has crumbled, leaving a drowsy, content expression in its wake. His lips are swollen and chewed, and they press against Kuroo’s shoulder when Akaashi rests his head there.

 

“Check,” he whispers hoarsely, and Kuroo manages to nod and turns.

 

Ah. One demon, though it looks like he has little interest in them. Still, he appears to be a Lord, which is disconcerting. Kuroo’s grip on Akaashi’s hips tightens to a bruising hold. The Lord has a disgruntled look on his face, his dark energy rolling off like waves. He looks up into the sky and Kuroo can make out two curly, jeweled horns that twist like daggers in the air. The Lord raises his hand, thick rings coating each finger, and fades slowly out of existence.

 

Now, back to Akaashi. Kuroo relaxes his grip and slides his hands under Akaashi’s thighs, leaning back so they don’t fall over when he stands. Akaashi slumps against his chest fully this time, breathing off. Normally blood has a tempting but ultimately foul taste. Kuroo wonders if it’s the length he’s gone without feeding, or if it’s Akaashi’s witch blood that made it taste so delicious. 

 

Dazed, Akaashi makes a small noise when Kuroo gently presses him into the couch. 

 

“I’ll be right back,” Kuroo promises before speeding over to the fridge and grabbing a water bottle. He hesitates before grabbing a slice of Oikawa’s apple coffee cake. When he returns the other is sitting up, fingers kneading the couch cushion and breath coming out even and calm.

 

“Hey,” he says quietly, kneeling in front of Akaashi. The other’s dark eyes flash when they come into contact with his, and instinctively Kuroo reaches out and puts a hand over the bite mark. Akaashi leans into the touch. “Drink all of this, okay?” He holds out the water bottle, cap already off. 

 

“Mm,” Akaashi nods, closing his eyes again and tilting his head back slowly as he drinks the water. Between sips he asks, “So?”

 

Honestly, Kuroo’s impressed. This is the most awake he’s seen anyone after getting their blood drank. Also he’s glad, because if Oikawa and Bokuto came back and found Akaashi reacting like a normal person would after getting drank from, they’d probably accuse him of drugging the witch.

 

“A demon lord. He wasn’t focusing on us, though, so,” he sits down next to Akaashi on the couch and sighs, already feeling the effects of the blood wearing off. “We should be safe.”

 

“Good,” Akaashi nods slowly, and finishes off the last of the water. He’s already mostly rejuvenated, enough to reach out and grab the cake from Kuroo’s other hand and take a bite himself. “We need to get Bokuto…” a long pause, “to talk to us.”

 

Kuroo snorts. He’s about to whip out a witty reply, but the sound of a car door slamming shut fills the air.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

“Iwaizumi?” Oikawa asks quietly, his feet barely making noise as he lands softly behind the shadow barrier. Kunimi, too tired to maintain his physical manifestation, is resting in Oikawa’s shadow. The angel whips around.

 

“Oikawa— _Tooru_ —just come out!” Iwaizumi scowls, desperately banging his fist against the shadowy dome that separates them. “Please…I just need to…”

 

“You know I can’t,” Oikawa replies painfully. Though he’s certainly tempted.

 

“Then why are you here?!” Iwaizumi collapses against the barrier, growling low in the back of his throat. His beautiful opal wings flutter and twitch with every inhale, enticing just by their presence.

 

“Because…I came to tell you you’re—“ Oikawa cuts off when his throat closes up with emotion. Bitterly he tries to mask it, but it’s too late; Iwaizumi notices how torn he is. Eh, he’s never been able to hide anything from the angel before, why start now? “You’re right. He—Kunimi-kun…Ushiwaka-chan almost attacked Kunimi-kun yesterday. I sensed his shadows near where I’m staying, and I—“ another swallow. Deep breaths. “I’m doing what you always wanted, I guess. I’m going to destroy him.”

 

Iwaizumi’s head whips up, eyes wide. Silence rings through the sky before thunder begins to rumble in the clouds that float around them. Premature lightning makes the air crackle with intensity. “You can’t be serious. Not by yourself.”

 

“No. Not by myself, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa smiles bitterly, tilting his head to the side. To show the angel the extent of his kind, he lets his horns and tail appear. His eyes fizzle from stunning gold to a glowing, violent red. “I’m going to find the Legion. And they will fight with me.”

 

Iwaizumi lets out a choked noise, backing up as if he’s been burned. His lips twist into an unfamiliar snarl. “Don’t be stupid, Tooru. No one can control the Legion, they’ll just come after you once they’re done with him.”

 

“Maybe they will,” Oikawa shrugs. “I’ve always been curious about the extent of my power, my control. Why have power if you’re not going to test it?” He does his best to forge a nasty smile, but Iwaizumi just scoffs.

 

“You can’t hide anything from me, Shittykawa. It doesn’t matter if Kunimi and I are safe if you’re dead. It doesn’t. Don’t make us bear the weight of your life.”

 

“Oh? You think I’m doing this for you?” Oikawa’s laugh is sour. “Cute, Iwa-chan. No, I’m doing this for myself. I’ve seen my family die before, and I don’t want to see it again. I’d rather die than see it again.”

 

“Tooru, that _wasn’t your fault_ —“

 

“Wasn’t my fault?” Oikawa laughs louder this time, and folds into a nasty sneer. “Oh, I’m _happy_ to take the blame, Iwa-chan.” He pauses. “I have to go. My housemates are coming home soon and I’m supposed to be taking a nap on the couch.” He turns without looking at the angel.

 

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi calls, and he freezes and turns around. He barely has the reflexes to catch the golden apple tossed his way. “Just—take care of yourself, okay? Start eating more. And _don’t_ think I’m letting you do this.”

 

Oikawa smiles sadly. “I don’t think you’ll have a choice,” he says quietly, and looks down at the apple. “Thanks, Iwa-chan.”

 

He closes his eyes and vanishes in a swirl of shadows.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

“You know, we told Oikawa we’d be home like half an hour ago,” Bokuto mumbles, still unhappy about being tricked. He, Kuroo, and Akaashi are in the woods outside of the library, sitting crosslegged on the ground. Around them the dead leaves whisper and flutter in the wind. “We should head back soon.”

 

Under Kenma’s advice, they’d gone to the hidden section of the library and stolen an older spellbook. Akaashi spent over an hour translating it to Japanese before they were able to distinguish anything from it.

 

“No, we need to summon the spirit that moved the Oujia board.” Akaashi disagrees calmly. “They might be trying to communicate something important.”

 

Bokuto rolls his eyes and sighs, jumping a little when Kuroo rests an arm around his shoulder. Akaashi goes back to reading the spellbook and mutters to give them some privacy.

 

“Look, I know you didn’t want us to know.” Kuroo says in a low voice. “But we do now, and we don’t care. Hell, we don’t even have room to care. The only person who has room to judge is the only person in our house who doesn’t know, and knowing that brat, he’d probably think it’s awesome.”

 

“Yeah…it’s just,” Bokuto glances around uncertainly. “I’ve told people before, but I’ve never, like. _Shown_ anyone before. It’s just weird!” He turns a little red, “you guys saw me naked!”

 

“We certainly did,” Kuroo agrees smugly, now that he knows his friend isn’t too distraught about it. “Not that I haven’t before—“

 

Akaashi glances up at them, eyebrows drawn together in annoyance but a flush on his cheeks all the same. “I’m still here,” he points out, before going back to the book. Kuroo and Bokuto share a look before crowding the other boy, pressing into him on either side.

 

“Aww, did we make you embarrassed? You’re so cute!” Bokuto grins, shoving their cheeks together. He feels Akaashi sigh.

 

“Whatever,” Akaashi grumbles, but the other two know he’s happy that they’ve reverted to their old gimmicks. They’ve been too serious lately, it’s time to shake things up again.

 

“Well, is it ready?” Kuroo wonders, resting his head on Akaashi’s shoulder so he can look down at the spell. “That looks pretty Japanese to me.”

 

“It should be, it’s a double translation,” Akaashi sets the book out in front of them. He spreads the pages out carefully and mutters a spell to keep them from flipping in the wind. “Okay. Cine are ochi să vadă le deschide.” _She who has eyes to see open them_. “Ea care are urechi de auzit asculta.” _He who has ears to hear listen_. “Aduceți cel cu mâinile care se misca, iar cuvintele care ajung, și să le prezinte înaintea mea în forma lor pământească.” _Bring forth the one with the hands that move and the words that reach, and present them before me in their earthly form._

 

The wind howls briefly as the light falters and goes out. Darkness sweeps around them, almost like black dust being drawn above their magic circle. It cries out in anguish before billowing in the air, taking shape in the form of a veil. The veil twists and twists, wrapping around an invisible creature until it takes a human form. Then it tightens and wraps completely around, mummifying the figure.

 

“Reveal aceasta,” Akaashi hisses, keeping one hand clenched to make sure it doesn’t escape. _Reveal it_. The black veil slips away into the air, vanishing. The sunlight returns once more, and sitting in the circle, bruises littering it’s pale skin, is a little demon. A blasphemy.

 

Akaashi nearly recoils, but Bokuto’s arms wound around him at one point and it keeps him rooted. Kuroo hisses, knowing why the witch is ill at ease, and narrows his eyes at the demon. It doesn’t look particularly strong so they could probably kill it after they get the information. Except…

 

He can’t help but notice the shackles on it’s feet. 

 

“Ngh,” it groans, before noticing exactly where it is. It’s eyes grow wide, and it struggles briefly to escape Akaashi’s hold but it’s no use: Akaashi’s grip is firm now that Bokuto’s hand is there to help him. The demon makes a pained whine in the back of it’s throat, and the bruises on it’s thin limbs grow darker. “You called?” It asks, when it’s apparent it can’t get away.

 

Akaashi bites his lip, eyes murderous, and Bokuto’s busy keeping him calm, so Kuroo decides to talk. 

 

“You were the one using the Ouija board?” He drawls. “You certainly don’t look like much.”

 

It’s true; the little blasphemy is skinny and small, maybe up to Kuroo’s shoulder. His skin is pale and marred with cuts and bruises, and his dark hair, though soft and clean, is tousled. His thick black cloak almost completely envelopes him and underneath he isn’t wearing much, just black pants and a t-shirt.

 

The demon glances uncertainly at them before nodding. “My—“ he paused, “brother’s been…spending a lot of time around here.”

 

“So you were curious, then?” Kuroo sighs. “You were just fucking with us? What were you spelling?”

 

“I—I can’t—“ the blasphemy stumbles over its words uncertainly before whispering, “if I say his name, he’ll come.”

 

“What were you trying to spell?” Akaashi spits out, still seething. His eyes are wild, and Kuroo makes a note to bring Bokuto up to date on why.

 

“It’s—“ the blasphemy pauses, eyes going wide. The woods seem to whisper and hiss around them, making strange noises before the wind moans. “He’s still looking for me,” it whispers, and for all that he hates demons Kuroo can’t help but feel at least a little bad because this one can’t be older than twenty in human years, and it looks terrified. It raises a finger and begins to write in the air, leaving a glowing red-orange trail in it’s wake. 

 

“Ushiji—“ Bokuto begins to spell out loud, and Kuroo barely manages to slap a hand over his mouth. 

 

“Don’t say it’s name!” He hisses, “or it’ll know where we are!”

 

Bokuto’s eyes grow wide and he nods, moving to attend to Akaashi once more. When Kuroo turns back, the blasphemy’s face has gone white in fear; it’s stumbled back and curled into the spot in the containment circle farthest from the trio.

 

They aren’t getting anywhere. Kuroo sighs and decides it’s time for some unconventional means. He gets up, resting a hand on Akaashi’s shoulder to reassure him before stepping into the circle. The blasphemy cowers back, shutting its eyes and bracing for impact.

 

It’s sad, really. Demons inflict the most pain on other creatures, but they also receive the most.

 

“Shh,” Kuroo murmurs, resting his hand on the demon’s head and trying to get it to relax. It’s uncomfortable, and Kuroo would really rather it be evil and menacing than…this. “Is that the person who shackled you? Do they also control your brother?”

 

It nods yes to both. 

 

“Is it a demon Lord?”

 

Another nod. So, it was trying to warn them, then? That it’s master was near? Something about that isn’t adding up.

 

Not much is known about demons and how their society works, mostly because no one lives after getting in that deep. However, Kuroo’s brief understanding is that there are two to three demon lords which control various amounts of demons. Those demons may be either freed after a certain period or enslaved, depending on if the Lord decides to make more.

 

“Does he control the other Lords?” Akaashi asks, and both Kuroo and the blasphemy whip their heads to stare at the witch. His eyes have calmed slightly now that he’s noticed the shackles. His grip is tight but less painful.

 

“There are no others,” it whispers, and Akaashi frowns. 

 

“No, there are at least three. My parents—“ he swallows, “they knew of two others who didn’t share that name.”

 

“There were two more…” The blasphemy nods, before pressing his head into Kuroo’s hand and closing his eyes in distress. “He—he _ate_ them.”

 

An unsettled silence fills the air. 

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

“Stupid Kuroo-chan,” Oikawa grumbles as he waits outside the train station. He just wants to get back home, after spending thirty minutes pretending to nap and then getting bored enough to go back to the apple orchard. His arms are full of two bags of apples now and he’s tired. It’s even dark outside, and his phone hasn’t rung once! All of his housemates officially suck.

 

“Oh?”

 

He glances over to see a blonde pudding-head watching him curiously.

 

“Huh?” Oikawa’s head tilts cutely to the side. He pretends to look confused. “Sorry, did I bother you?” 

 

“I know Kuroo.” 

 

Eh? Oikawa grins and turns to face the kid, who’s sitting on the bench waiting. There’s a gameboy in the kid’s hands that lights up his face creepily. “Really?” Oikawa asks, stepping forward.

 

The boy nods. “I didn’t know he knew a demon, though.”

 

Oikawa freezes. “E-excuse me?! That is so rude!” Not untrue though. Oikawa still has to pretend to look put out . “You rude little kid! No wonder you know Kuroo-chan!”

 

“Ah, you must be Oikawa-san.” And this must be Kenma. What an obnoxious co-worker. “What do you want with them?”

 

“You have some kind of lie detector in you, don’t you?” Oikawa narrows his eyes and pouts cutely. “What are you, then? A witch? Or something else?”

 

Kenma shrugs, which gives Oikawa the impression that he doesn’t really know. Which is honestly the most ridiculous thing ever. How can someone not know what they are?!

 

“I won’t tell them unless it’s dangerous.”

 

Oikawa huffs. “Fine. If you really have to know, they’re the only human family I have. Well—I have a feeling Aka-chan is something else, but that’s aside the point. Because they’re…” he sighs. “Whatever, right Ken-chan? Doesn’t matter when I’m a soul-sucking beast~”

 

“Oikawa-san, you’re not a beast from where I’m standing.“

 

“Oh?” The train pulls up and Oikawa thinks its good timing, because this means he can leave off with a cool one-liner. Kenma looks disoriented for a minute, but Oikawa wants to really keep him on his toes, so he lets his eyes flash red and musters up the most devilish, evil expression he can. “Then maybe you should move.” And with that, he boards the train.

 

Of course, he immediately flashes into a different car. After all, it would be weird to leave off a conversation like that when they’re both getting onto the same train.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

This is both the worst and best idea Oikawa’s ever had. They’re going apple picking because it’s been too long since the four of them all did something together, but the problem isn’t with the apples. It’s with the auras. Mainly Akaashi’s. Since his conversation with Kenma Oikawa’s been good about causing an ample amount of mayhem in faraway cities to strengthen his other abilities, including aura sensation. And Akaashi’s aura (he’s definitely a witch, Oikawa thinks) practically screams ‘attack me!’.

 

Plus, there’s the whole Ushijima thing. Oikawa glares at the demon Lord standing not-too-obviously behind a nearby apple tree, only noticeable because of his long black cloak drifting in the wind. Something’s got him interested in Oikawa’s roommates, and that’s not good at all.

 

“Oi, Oikawa! Check this out!” Bokuto draws him away from his glare to show him a beautiful-looking apple. “It’s totally circular!”

 

“Looks delicious~” Oikawa smirks before grabbing Bokuto’s wrist and leaning forward, taking a bite out of the apple.

 

“Hey! I was gonna take the first bite!” 

 

“Ehh? What’s stopping you?” Oikawa grins, holding a perfect, unchewed piece of the apple between his teeth. He likes Bokuto because the other is always up for a challenge; there’s a familiar flash in his eyes and he drops the apple to reverse their position, tugging Oikawa’s wrist with one hand and letting his other rest on the bend of Oikawa’s back. He goes to lean in when suddenly there’s two sets of arms dragging them apart.

 

Oikawa smirks victoriously, swallowing the apple while maintaining eye contact with Bokuto. The other’s nervous, excited energy feeds him, and the demon nearly sighs into it.

 

“Get a room, you two,” Kuroo snorts as he lugs Oikawa over to a different section of the orchard.

 

“Bokuto-kun, you shouldn’t let him rile you up so easily,” Akaashi admonishes, shaking his head at the white-haired man. Oikawa appreciates the view of the ravenette’s ass as Kuroo drags him off. At least, he does until he notices Ushijima, watching the pair in interest. _No. No, not them—_

 

“Woah there, where’s the fire?” Kuroo asks as Oikawa tries to make a break for it, hooking an arm around his waist. “What the hell’s gotten into you? You wanna bang him that bad just wait ’til tonight. You know he always gets horny after the sunset.” He smirks as if laughing at some kind of inside joke, but Oikawa’s actually on the verge of feeling emotion.

 

“I forgot my apple bucket, though!” He tries to pull them back to Akaashi and Bokuto, but Kuroo’s grip hardens to a bruising hold and his eyes flash. Ushijima’s gaze swivels away from the other pair and towards them.

 

“What, you don’t want to spend time time alone with me or something?” And, oh shit, Kuroo actually looks a little offended. Oikawa tries to backtrack but he can’t think with the idea of Ushijima even laying one insanity-inducing finger on those two—

 

Nope. Guess he doesn’t have to worry about that, because Ushijima moved and is standing right. Behind. Kuroo.

 

Fuck.

 

“It’s just—“ Oikawa doesn’t know what to do, he’s never been quick on his feet when it comes to his housemates, and he flounders for a minute. Everything feels like too much now; he can’t keep up. He knows the longer he waits to respond the less likely it is he’ll be believed, so he does the only thing he knows will work and bursts into tears.

 

“H-hey?! What’s wrong?!” Kuroo sounds almost as panicked as Oikawa feels, so at least there’s that. “Did I say something?!”

 

“You suck, Kuroo-chan!” Oikawa fakes a sob and makes sure his breathing feels shaky before burrowing into Kuroo’s chest. The other’s arms instinctively wrap around him, pulling him in tight against his chest, and one hand threads through Oikawa’s hair to guide his head onto Kuroo’s shoulder. Awesome.

 

Knowing that Kuroo can’t hear or see him in this position, Oikawa flashes his eyes at Ushijima. The Lord’s stare intensifies, and he makes a motion to reach out and touch Kuroo’s neck. Oikawa immediately stumbles back, forcing Kuroo along for the ride, and decides to cover by buckling his knees.

 

“Woah, hey, hey, calm down,” Kuroo sounds frantic now, rubbing soothing circles in Oikawa’s back as they both sink into kneeling positions. He’s quick to pull Oikawa into his lap, worriedly trying to calm him down with low cooing and by carding fingers through soft brown hair. Another time Oikawa would be happy about all the attention and bask in it. Now? He’s desperately feeding off of Kuroo’s extra panic and using it to push his Lord away. He can tell Ushijima doesn’t know his identity—probably thinks Oikawa’s just another random demon getting possessive. But Kuroo’s energy…

 

It’s not enough. Kuroo’s not worried enough to ward off a Lord. Yet. Something needs to push him over the edge, and Oikawa thinks fast.

 

“I—I _hate_ you!” He wails, and tries to make it sound like he really means it.

 

There it is. Guilt ebbs inside of him, but he lets Kuroo’s massive spike of distress sink into him and, when he opens his eyes over the other’s shoulder, they’re a violent, bloody red. He releases a roll of protective energy and Ushijima becomes a puff of black smoke as he retreats.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

“Are you really sure it was him?” Bokuto asks with a sigh as he checks around the barn they’re near. The sun is close to setting, and it’s making his wolf twist wearily. The moon is already visible in the fading sky.

 

“I’m certain I saw it.” Akaashi nods. “He had the cloak of a Lord.”

 

Bokuto sighs. Thankfully Kuroo and Akaashi had noticed it, because with Oikawa so _close_ and so _submissive_ Bokuto just couldn’t focus anywhere else—that’s what happens when your body is mostly controlled by animalistic instincts half your life. He sighs again and puts a hand on Akaashi’s head, ruffling those soft curls before dragging the other into his chest.

 

“Well, he’s gone now. I’m sure if something bad happens we’ll be able to protect our human! It’ll be fine. Since Tetsu’s with him, and he’s a hunter and vampire and everything.” He assures the other, who snuggles into his chest with a quiet sigh. Honestly, Bokuto’s missed this. When they all first met, they were all so carefree…slowly but surely, they’d all become more serious. When had that happened? Why? Maybe it was because of the aura in the demon currently stalking them.

 

“Yeah,” Akaashi nods, looking thoroughly comforted. And then he freezes.

 

“What—“

 

“There’s—I just felt a huge energy field.” Akaashi goes limp in Bokuto’s arms and the werewolf nearly has a heart attack. However, it appears to just be a dizzy spell, because he opens his eyes and slowly regains his footing. “It’s messing with my head…I think someone’s trying to send a distress signal?”

 

They stare at each other for approximately two seconds before Bokuto hoists Akaashi into his arms and darts off in the direction Kuroo dragged Oikawa. His blood is pumping like crazy, and he bites back a grin when his nails begin shifting. He makes sure to keep it human, at least while he’s holding Akaashi.

 

“What’s going o—Tetsu?!” Bokuto’s feet kick up dirt and leaves as he skids to a stop. He sounds scandalized.

 

Kuroo’s sitting in the middle of the orchard with Oikawa dragged up into his lap. Tears are streaking down the brunette’s cheeks as he presses his face into Kuroo’s neck, and the vampire stares up at them helplessly.

 

‘What happened?’ Akaashi mouths, shifting until Bokuto lets him down. He crosses his arms and glares a little, though it isn’t as harsh as it could’ve been. He’s still breaking eye contact to skirt at the rest of the orchard, wary of the Lord.

 

Kuroo makes a panicked gesture. Oikawa hiccups and shifts a little closer into his hold, mumbling, “You’re an idiot, Tetsu-chan.”

 

“Yeah, Kuroo-kun.” Akaashi crosses his arms unforgivingly, even though Bokuto immediately dives and throws his arms around the pair with a wounded noise.

 

“Don’t fight, please!” He begs, rubbing his forehead into Oikawa’s shoulder blade and inhaling deeply. Gosh, he really wants to scent them all. Not that he hasn’t been trying, but the traditional scenting method always lasts longer than just trying to smother it on. “Please?” He repeats, arms tightening as he feels the muscles in Oikawa’s back shift.

 

“…fine,” the brunette mutters, before chirping, “after all, who else watches x-files with me all night long?” He sinks between his two housemates and grins cheerily. Bokuto lets a wave of relief wash over him, complete when Kuroo’s “oh-thank-god” expression makes an appearance.

 

“Idiots,” Akaashi says from somewhere behind them, but it sounds fond. Boktuo lets a rumble out from his chest when the other’s fingers tug through his hair.

 

Kuroo balks. “Bro, did you just…purr?” He asks, with the expression of someone who’s stumbled upon a gold mine.

 

“N-no!” Boktuo turns bright red.

 

“Oh, he totally did,” Oikawa joins in, twisting in Kuroo’s lap so that he’s face-to-face with Bokuto, wrapping his legs around the white-haired werewolf’s waist when he tries to escape. Then, with a bright expression coming over his tearstained face, Oikawa presses into Bokuto and reaches over his shoulder, grabbing an unsuspecting Akaashi’s wrist and dragging him into the pile.

 

“Hey!” Akaashi grumbles, but it’s halfhearted. He smiles when the trio shifts to accommodate his presence. Elbows jab into unsuspecting sides and shins connect with hard boots and tennis shoes, but after some clever maneuvering they manage to situate themselves into some kind of working order. Though it doesn’t last for long.

 

Bokuto makes a howling noise before yelling “CUDDLE PUDDLE!” and tossing all of his body weight over the other three. Kuroo, taking the brunt weight of the others, makes a protesting wheeze-like noise, limbs sprawled haphazardly, but it ceases when he gets his three favorite people pressed tight against him. Bokuto laughs, pleased when he notices Akaashi and Oikawa grinning at each other, and basks in the happiness of being close to his pack.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

“Any leads?” Kuroo asks, spinning in the swivel chair and sucking on a lollipop. From the desk, Kenma shrugs uncertainly. He’s not even sitting properly; his knees are drawn to his chest and his phone is in one hand as he observes body photos in the other. He’s still thinking about what happened at the orchard—why Oikawa freaked out, and why a huge energy surge happened right after. 

 

“They look like your roommates.” Is the only reply. Kuroo pauses at this before kicking off with his feet, rolling across the floor heroically and slowing to a stop right next to Kenma. He crosses his arms over the back of the chair and rests his chin on them.

 

“Fuck,” he whistles. “I was kind of hoping you were joking.” They both stare down at the array of pictures, and Kenma spreads each one out like a jumbo-sized deck of cards. “That’s…actually really creepy.”

 

It’s true, though. The first victim, the one whose original murder suspect was Bokuto, has wavy brown hair and creamy skin. Like Oikawa, the vic’s cheekbones are high and his eyes wide and sparkling. There’s no doubt that this person possessed the same vitality, the same charm that Oikawa has.

 

Their second murder happened shortly after their first meeting with the demon Lord. The victim has curly black hair and snow-colored skin: almost like a twin of Akaashi’s. And the third victim died right after their outing to the orchard. Hair an odd shade of white for a teenager—just like Bokuto.

 

So it isn’t a coincidence, then. What’s drawing this demon to them? Is it Kuroo’s hunter status, and it failed to throw him off mark with Bokuto so now it’s trying to enact its revenge? Or is this—

 

“Something else.” Kenma mutters, and Kuroo glances up. 

 

“Huh?”

 

“…nothing.”

 

Kuroo frowns. Kenma almost never tries to keep anything from him, but even when he does try—and he rarely does—it’s incredibly obvious. Just like it is now; why would the other be hiding something? Is he involved somehow, too?

 

…no. That’s just not Kenma’s style. Most likely he’s figured something out that Kuroo hasn’t, and it’s information that Kenma thinks will set off Kuroo’s less agreeable, more emotion-based side. So it has to do with his roommates.

 

“You know, lying to my face will hurt my pure little heart~” He whines, pressing the side of his head into Kenma’s shoulder.

 

“Like you have one,” the coroner mumbles, but there’s no bite in his words. Kuroo sighs and continues to think, inhaling Kenma’s dusty, almost cat-like smell.

 

Oikawa’s lookalike is the first body they found, so maybe it has something to do with him? That would make sense, since Akaashi’s lookalike was found after the demon got a good look at him and Kuroo through the living room window. And Bokuto’s twin was found after the orchard—the first time the demon probably got a good look at him in human form.

 

Then again, what if his roommates are simply means to a cause? What if the demon is trying to get to him through them? That would make more sense. The Lord would frame Bokuto so Kuroo would unknowingly kill one of his closest people; that would’ve taken him off the hunting grounds for a while. 

 

So then this is some kind of threat. Someone is threatening _his_ housemates. _His_ family.

 

“Kenma, do you still have the key to the bunker?”

 

Kenma’s eyes almost seem to glow as he nods. 

 

 

xxxxxxxxx

 

 

“You’re oddly quiet tonight, Oikawa-kun,” Akaashi notes over their dinner. It’s absurdly salty chicken, but they eat it just like it’s regular. “Are you feeling alright?” He doesn’t fail to catalogue the dark circles under his roommate’s eyes and raises a hand to the other’s forehead. It’s only when Oikawa has a delayed response that Akaashi knows something really is wrong.

 

“Sure, Kei-chan! It’s just, Kuroo’s masturbating a lot at night and it keeps me up~”

 

Akaashi chokes on his food and accepts the glass of water his roommate hands over. “I…am sorry about that.” He says, unsure of how else to respond. Between them, the candles flicker.

 

After a long wind storm that left Bokuto stuck in the city and Kuroo not answering his phone, they are now sitting in a candlelit house; the power left them hours ago. Typical for a frosty October night, though the frigid air isn’t particularly welcome.

 

“And also, you guys are being mean!” 

 

Akaashi glances up, startled, and Oikawa is quick to continue. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re all hanging out without me. Am I really that bratty? Because—“

 

“Oikawa-kun—“

 

“—I know that I can kind of—“

 

“Oikawa-kun—“ Akaashi tries again, because he really doesn’t like it when Oikawa loses his confidence.

 

“—but I just thought if it bothered you guys that much you’d tell—“

 

“ _Tooru!_ ” Akaashi snaps, and the effect is immediate. Bright red flush spreads right from Oikawa’s neck all the way to his ears, and it’s incredibly endearing. Akaashi almost feels bad for him, he looks so flustered. But it’s also fun because, well, they’ve never been able to find his weak point. Bokuto implodes when people wink at him and Kuroo absolutely crumbles if one of them uses a cheesy pickup line (though the timing does have to be right). Akaashi himself blushes when people compliment him sincerely.

 

He’ll have to store this away for future reference. However, for now he pushes it to the side and folds his arms slightly. 

 

“Oikawa-kun,” he sighs, “we aren’t trying to exclude you. I’m very sorry you took it that way, and it’s true we didn’t realize how…rude we were being about it.”

 

That’s about when he stops, because he’s not sure exactly how to explain their actions. He thinks for a moment before continuing, “we wanted to give you space. You seemed distressed at the orchard yesterday, but we’ve noticed something bothering you lately. We’re trying to give you space to sort out whatever led up to…that.” It’s a tense, thick lie in Akaashi’s mouth, but a necessary one.

 

Oikawa’s expression is a bit twisted; uncertain, almost fragile. His thumb rubs over the grip of his fork. “…oh,” he says quietly, and takes another bite. Akaashi sighs. Why can’t they just have one nice night? One where they don’t worry about roommates getting stalked by demons or bursting into tears for no reason?

 

“Mm.” Cue bite of salty chicken to avoid further conversation. Akaashi grimaces, knowing his roommate is well aware of his conversational tactics. After swallowing through the silence, though, he waves his white flag. “You could have mentioned this to Bokuto? He’s pretty blunt; you would have received a straight answer from him.”

 

“It’s hard to have conversations with Bo-chan,” Oikawa pouts.

 

“Oh? Why?” The candles flicker as Akaashi reaches out and steals a leftover piece of burnt broccoli from the other’s plate. He notes, though, that all the apple cream is spread liberally over the chicken.

 

Oikawa’s pout increases. “Bo-chan says stuff like ‘homeslice’ and ‘swaggy’, and I know better than to get up in that.”

 

“Fair point.”

 

“Anyway. Something’s been stressing me out, but…” A strange look crosses over Oikawa’s face then, one that makes Akaashi want to reach out and scold him, and also chain him to the house. But he doesn’t, because he has no idea what Oikawa even means. “It’s okay. It’ll all be over soon.”

 

Akaashi doesn’t know how he feels about that.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

 

“Whatcha doin’ there?” 

 

Kuroo nearly jumps a foot in the air, the grip on his silver gun tightening considerably as he whips around to face the entrance to the bunker. “Jesus christ bro, don’t scare me like that!” 

 

Unfortunately, his less-than-inviting attire doesn’t dissuade a guy like Bokuto. The other waltzes up to his roommate and grins. “Come on, K-batz, don’t try and hide something from your best bud. You’re going after the demon lord.”

 

K-batz. Only Bokuto would actually come up with a name as stupid and simplistic as K-batz.

 

Kuroo loves it.

 

“Not without you, B-dawg,” he teases, and they share twin grins. Man, it feels good to not be so serious. He needs more Bokuto-time after this; being around such an honest-hearted person is doing him wonders. “You sure, though?”

 

“I was born fighting demons.” Bokuto scrunches up his nose. “Akaashi will probably be angry we did something dangerous without him, but he’ll be fine! The power’s out. Ooh, Tetsu, do you think him and Oikawa are having dinner? We should get food before we leave, or call them and ask them to leave us leftovers, or—“

 

Kuroo, being the amazing friend he is, points Bokuto in the direction of the minifridge. Bokuto makes a delighted noise, smacking a sloppy kiss on Kuroo’s cheek before tearing open the fridge door and whipping out some leftover pizza. It’s gone before a minute passes. Kuroo doesn’t know if he’s disgusted or impressed, but that’s kind of how a relationship with Bokuto works.

 

“Okay!” Bokuto says when he’s done, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and pulling off his hoodie. So it doesn’t rip, most likely. He toes off his shoes and yanks off his shirt and jeans, kicking them into a messy pile by the fridge. 

 

He turns back around and comes face-to-almost-face with a dark figure, screeches, and scrambles over to Kuroo, jumping behind him and shoving him forward. “IT’S A DEMON!”

 

“So you _push me towards it_?! What the hell happened to Mr. I-was-born-fighting-demons?!” Kuroo snorts indignantly, Bokuto’s fingers digging canyons into his shoulders, the same time Kenma says, “I’m not a demon.”

 

“O-oh.” Bokuto blushes, peeking over Kuroo’s shoulder. His grip lightens considerably as he becomes more curious than scared. “Oh! You’re Kenma! Nice to meet you!” Despite his words, he stays kaput behind Kuroo, still lightly holding on. He does, however, lean forward and rest his chin on Kuroo’s shoulder, looking down at the coroner. 

 

“Nice to meet you, Koutarou.” Kenma nods, before holding out what Kuroo’s been trying to get his hands on: a magic-infused dagger. It’s heavy when he accepts it, a couple of pounds, and the grip is a cold, jewel-encrusted alabaster. The blade itself is a special form of jade marble, and the entire thing looks more like a work of art than an actual weapon. 

 

“Ooh, that looks cool!” Bokuto grins, reaching for it. Kuroo smirks and drops it back into its jeweled hilt, stowing it safely in his leg holster. The other pouts at him, more than a little put out.

 

“Werewolves shouldn’t touch it,” Kuroo explains. Kenma nods, eyes sharp. 

 

“They shouldn’t,” he repeats. It’s somewhat odd, to hear Kenma speak more than he needs to. “Demons are dangerous.”

 

Kuroo figures that’s as close to ‘please be safe’ as Kenma’s going to get so he steps forward, ignoring Bokuto’s hands kneading at his shoulders, and wraps the littler man up in his arms. Although he freezes, Kenma doesn’t draw away like he would with anyone else. Kuroo smugly chalks that up to them being best friends.

 

His arms feel cold when he pulls away—Kenma’s gotten a reputation for being a human space heater—so he turns around and hugs Bokuto right after, sighing. “God, I wish my blood still pumped. I’m always cold.”

 

“Your blood does pump, it just doesn’t require oxygen,” Kenma points out and really, should he be talking this much? He’s spoken more in this conversation than he has in the past two months. “That’s why it feels so good when you drink fresh.”

 

“Really?” Bokuto asks, voice curious and muffled by Kuroo’s black hoodie. The fleece heats up when the werewolf lets out a puff of laughter. “Should you drink now so you fight better? I don’t mind!”

 

_God, these kids are gonna be the death of me_ , Kuroo thinks, remembering Akaashi’s surprisingly aggressive tactics. But he shakes his head, and even though they’re still pressed together chest-to-chest Bokuto follows his lead as he walks to the table, clinging on contently as Kuroo loads another gun.

 

“I can take on a Lord without that,” Kuroo says, pressing the smaller gun into its holster. “But thanks for the offer.” 

 

Despite his words, uneasiness settles like a blanket in his heart. Kenma gives him an unconvinced glance, but Kuroo squashes all the negativity in favor of detaching himself from his best bro.

 

“Okay,” Bokuto grins. “Where do we start?”

 

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

 

It’s not until Kuroo’s half-buried in mud, blearily looking up at the clouds as it begins to drizzle, that he realizes how in over his head they are. Blood drips from a thick cut on his forehead, one that will definitely leave a scar. 

 

Ushijima. The demon lord. Straight from hell, probably. Kuroo twists his neck to the side to glare up at the tall, monstrous demon whose shadowy cape flutters in the breeze. He isn’t like most of the other demons; his appearance is obviously kept, with carefully-trimmed hair and a smooth, stubble-less jaw. His eyes are sharp but clear of the rage that normally clouds a demon’s judgement. His head is turned to the side as if he is waiting for something.

 

“I will kill him,” he says in an unearthly voice, one that sifts through the dirt and leaves and spreads across the forest, leaving little whispers in its wake. It’s a traveling voice, one intended for ears far, far away. “And leave him in his bed for them to find. I will find his friend and I will transform him into a _monster_.”

 

There’s a pulse. At least, that’s what it feels like. And then, suddenly, someone—a demon—is crouched on Kuroo’s other side, shadow expanding and retracting like a beating heart, drawing Kuroo closer. It’s a higher-level demon, judging by the way he can hide his face; his cloak is a shocking, misty white. 

 

“You really have possession issues, don’t you Ushiwaka-chan?” He grimaces, leaning over Kuroo’s legs and billowing his own shadowy cloak over the vampire. “ _Let me go!_ ”

 

“You’re mine,” Ushijima—Ushiwaka?—states, crossing his arms. Kuroo’s getting lost trying to figure out what’s going on; his head is really dizzy and his blood pools below his head and mats up his hair. “You will follow me.”

 

“Whatever! You creep! If you like me that much then go after me yourself, not them!”

 

Wait…okay. Kuroo thinks for a minute. So this is some kind of territory battle? A demon is hiding somehow using them—probably using the auras of a werewolf, witch, human, and vampire in one house—to mask their presence in the city, to escape his…creator? Or perhaps Ushijima is trying to kill him, since this demon seems particularly powerful. But that doesn’t explain why he would go to such lengths to save Kuroo.

 

Kuroo closes his eyes and just thanks the heavens that he convinced Bokuto to escape. That is, until he hears a thwang, and the Lord is looking down at his own chest, eyes wide, where a thick willow arrow is embedded. He has time to let out a hollow, chorded noise before vanishing in a puff of smoke. Then there’s the gripping sound of a string being pulled taught.

 

“Get the hell away from him,” Akaashi’s normally clear voice is riddled with adrenaline and anger. Kuroo can hear the blood pumping in his veins, thick and mesmerizing, and he almost leans towards it when the remaining demon presses a hand to his chest, keeping him down. 

 

“Ah, please don’t shoot me with that~” He smiles, at least Kuroo thinks he does. He’s still masking his face, making it impossible to identify him. “It’ll hurt. And I’ll leave on my own.”

 

True to his word, he reaches in and pulls out his inky black heart. The thing thumps uselessly in his hand before making a disgusting squishy noise as it’s thrown into the ground. The demon gives them a little salute before vanishing.

 

Suddenly Kuroo’s overwhelmed with the sound of not one, but two heavy pulses as Bokuto and Akaashi rush to his side.

 

“You idiot! Why didn’t you tell me what you were doing?!” Akaashi demands, his heartbeat spiking: fear. He’s worried, Kuroo realizes, not angry, and a pale hand holds his own tightly. But tiredness is gripping his cold, aching limbs and he doesn’t have it in himself to soothe the witch. “You need blood.” It’s not a question.

 

Still, when Akaashi reaches to pull down his collar, Kuroo turns his head to the side. He’s determined not to drink this time. He’s too tired for self control; he’ll hurt them.

 

“Take mine!” Bokuto says, like he’s just lending Kuroo a dollar or a piece of candy. “It’s fine, I’m a werewolf! I regenerate quickly, so don’t worry about taking too much.” To emphasize his point, he rubs the place on his cheek where a cut had been only minutes prior. It’s already healed up and pink, the skin tender but not broken. “See? I’ll be fine.”

 

Kuroo doesn’t want to, really, but it just smells so good…he feels the familiar pull in his teeth, the brisk icy air as it stains his lungs cold, the chill up his spine. His determination waning, he tries to turn his head away when Bokuto’s flesh presses against his lips. He fails. And he gives in. When Bokuto leans down more for easy access, he drinks.

 

It’s an odd taste, but not a bad one. Very salty, almost like Akaashi’s dank chicken, and burns like fire in his throat. Kuroo has to drink slowly and let it linger, let the taste settle in his mouth before each swallow. At certain points it almost reminds him of vodka. He feels like he did when he was human, akin to when he fervently drank water after dehydration.

 

Heat pools in his belly and he pulls Bokuto closer, the werewolf easily complying. Bokuto’s not as responsive as Akaashi was, which can be chalked up to his non-human status, but his eyes are half-lidded and his cheeks are flushed. In the background Akaashi hovers nearby, face blocked from Kuroo’s view but hands fiddling. 

 

When the fog finally clears from his mind, Kuroo realizes exactly how long he’s been drinking and immediately stops, feeling more than a little disgusted with himself. Bokuto whines as Kuroo retracts his teeth and licks along the bite mark. 

 

“Are you okay?” Kuroo asks, eyes narrow and assessing, grabbing Bokuto’s face in his hands so he can pull it back and observe it. Bokuto doesn’t look too pale, and he’s still pretty aware of his surroundings. “I drank a lot, how are you not…?”

 

“Told you! Werewolf genes,” Bokuto’s smile is blinding. He frees his face and sits up so he’s straddling Kuroo, just so he can turn and prove to Akaashi how fine he is. And then Kuroo stops. 

 

“Wait. Who’s with Oikawa?”

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

He’s giving them the silent treatment. 

 

Of course, Bokuto doesn’t really blame him. Especially after what Akaashi says they talked about that night, with the whole being ignored thing. How could they not realize what Oikawa felt earlier? Unfortunately, there’s nothing they can do about it now but try and patch things up.

 

Still, it’s hard. Especially on days like these, when Kuroo’s at his bunker and Akaashi’s holed up in the library and all Bokuto wants to do is curl up in Oikawa’s bed, smother the other in his microfleece blanket, and lounge the day away before trick or treaters show up.

 

So Bokuto gets up and meanders around the first floor, pausing by the kitchen and grabbing the entire apple pie Kuroo and him and Akaashi made last night (a peace offering, though it remained untouched even though they all heard him get up multiple times throughout the night) on the way up the stairs. After all, he’s never been good at holding back his desires.

 

Oikawa’s bedroom door is locked, so Bokuto knocks a couple times before shouldering it open. The feeble lock buckles under the pressure and the door pops open with a sad little click. 

 

“I’m coming in!” Bokuto announces to the man in bed, and sets the pie down on the edge of the mattress before peeling off his shirt and pants. As he does so, he glances around. 

 

Personally he’s always been a fan of Oikawa’s room simply because it’s light; it has lots of windows on one wall that let in all the light in the morning, and a skylight that brings in the rest. The main attraction is the queen bed with a thick, luxurious mattress—the only real thing of value Oikawa owns—complete with soft, pale blue sheets and fluffy pillows. A white comforter is twisted around in Oikawa’s legs, just barely covering his slender hips.

 

“Go away,” he grumbles, tossing over the pillow. It smacks Bokuto in the chest, but not hard enough to sway him. Oikawa shoots him a glare from under perfectly ruffled locks before twisting until his back faces the other, instead facing the window. 

 

Bokuto pouts, toeing off his socks and grabbing the pie in one hand as he flops onto the bed behind his roommate. As soon as their legs wind together and Bokuto settles Oikawa’s back against his chest he sets the pie down before them, leaning his arm over Oikawa’s shoulders as he peels away a slice.

 

“Please don’t be mad at me,” he says, pressing his face into conditioned, glossy locks of hair. Oikawa smells good, light and clear, and even though there’s no real scent to it Bokuto somehow associates it with mist. Maybe it’s some sort of perfumed shampoo? “I really miss you, I don’t like it when you’re mad at me.”

 

Silence. But Oikawa does turn a little so he can bite off the end of Bokuto’s slice. 

 

“Please don’t be m—“

 

“I’m not mad at you!” Oikawa says finally, before backpedaling and pressing himself into the mattress to hide his face. His muffled voice continues, “Yes I am! I’m mad! You guys suck!” It’s too late for that, though, and Bokuto begins to wonder what’s causing Oikawa to act out if it’s not anger. Unless…

 

“Were you worried?” Aw, he thinks when Oikawa stiffens, and frowns. “Why? I mean, it’s—“

 

“Of course I was worried!” Oikawa snaps, flipping over so he’s on his back, Bokuto pressed to his side. His eyes are fierce and dark, almost stormy. “You guys keep disappearing, and when you come back you’re all beat up, and I know that we have a whole no talking thing but I can’t help it!”

 

Predictably, now that he’s shown emotion he tries to turn away and cover his face with his hands. Bokuto snatches up his wrists and presses them into the mattress before he can, throwing one leg over Oikawa’s hips to keep him from turning over.

 

“Hey,” he says almost sternly. When Oikawa refuses eye contact Bokuto switches the wrists to one hand and uses his other to tilt up Oikawa’s head by the chin. “Hey. We’re ok. We’re not going anywhere. Okay?”

 

Oikawa’s face is twisted into something strange, his eyes almost glowing. He’s always had a sort of strange magnetism that draws other people in, and Bokuto can feel it now. “Let me go, I want pie.”

 

“Ohoho?” Bokuto’s mouth curls up into a mischievous grin and he lets go of Oikawa’s chin to grab the half-eaten slice of pie. It’s thick and creamy and delicious, and the crust is smooth and soft on the bottom and flaky on the top. Bokuto honestly doesn’t know how it all holds together so well, since whenever he makes pie it all falls apart if you pick it up, but he doesn’t care as long as it’s good. “This pie?”

 

“Kou-channn,” Oikawa tries to lean forward, but it’s hard with his wrists pinned down.

 

“No! I’m not good at reading between the lines, okay?” Oikawa quiets at this, and Bokuto sighs. He really doesn’t like being serious. He’s not good at it. “If you don’t tell me what you mean, I’m just not gonna understand. I hate that, I hate that you guys say stuff that means something else and you all understand it but I don’t. I wish I was better at this stuff. But,” Bokuto sucks in a deep breath, “I’m not yet. So promise to be straightforward with me.”

 

The look on Oikawa’s face is almost enlightened. His brown eyes are wide and he stops struggling, instead just settling into the mattress. “I didn’t know you felt that way,” he says honestly. “I can’t promise that. I do it without thinking.” He pauses, finally regaining their eye contact. “But if you let me know when I do it, I’ll try to explain it bluntly.”

 

Bokuto’s expression could light a thousand suns. “Okay!” He chirps, letting go of Oikawa’s wrists to eat the rest of the slice of pie. Oikawa rolls his eyes, but Bokuto knows there’s a smile just itching to be free and that’s enough. He has a roommate—a packmate—safe in his arms and the other two out working hard. For now at least, his inner wolf is satiated.

 

 

xxxxxxx

 

 

Akaashi knew it would be hard to keep everything a secret, but this is just plain ridiculous.

 

“No,” he hisses at Kuroo, pinching the vampire on the back of the neck. Kuroo pauses, half-pressed against a clueless Oikawa as the other fiddles with some cupcake decorations. His teeth are just sharp enough, eyes lingering on the spot at Oikawa’s creamy neck that he’d been leaning towards.

 

“Thanks,” he murmurs as he backs up, licking over his teeth and trying to get his fangs to retract. Oikawa hums as he swirls another glob of frosting onto a cupcake.

 

“Are you thirsty? I thought you drank from Bokuto earlier,” Akaashi asks quietly, his sharp, dark eyes studying Kuroo for any trace of a lie.

 

Kuroo sighs as they move out of the kitchen and into the hallway, opening the door for some trick-or-treaters while Akaashi steps out and drops a few pieces of candy into each kids’ bucket. 

 

“I did,” he says once the door is closed. “It’s Halloween, though, so it’s worse. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I just…need to get some breathing room. Maybe go into the woods with Kou or something after you guys go to bed.”

 

Akaashi nods, though the idea of Kuroo sitting on that pain for that long makes him sad. It’s been worse for him too; little things that he usually does by hand seem to get done without his spells.

 

“Bokuto-kun is just as bad as you are,” he says, pointing over at the white-haired werewolf. Bokuto’s practically running around the house at light speed, bounding over shoes and tables and couches, not staying in any one room for more than a few minutes. His pupils are blown to an abnormal degree. It’s almost worrying—at least, it would be if Oikawa wan’t shouting profanities every time the werewolf darted into the kitchen.

 

“I hope I’m not that bad,” Kuroo raises an eyebrow. He crosses his arms and smirks as Bokuto trips over his own feet and falls over, taking Oikawa and a bowl of frosting with him.

 

“KOU-CHAN!” Oikawa screeches, and Bokuto bursts into a fit of laughter. The human of the group is covered in frosting. It could be sexy, but the pout on Oikawa’s face completely ruins that image. He looks adorable though. “You suck!”

 

He promptly wipes a gob of frosting off of his shoulder and throws it like a snowball. It smacks into Bokuto’s face right between his eyes.

 

“Ohohoho?” Kuroo’s grin becomes positively lecherous the same time Akaashi facepalms and goes “Oh no.”

 

“Ohoho!” Bokuto crows, sitting up and tackling Oikawa, and he grabs one of the cupcakes from the counter and wipes the frosting off onto his hand. Oikawa struggles to get up, but he doesn’t break free until a smatter of purple frosting is smeared over his cheek. Deciding that’s not enough, Bokuto nuzzles Oikawa’s neck to wipe off his nose.

 

Things only get more chaotic from there.

 

 

xxxxxxxx

 

 

“You’re awfully distracted,” Kuroo notes, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. Akaashi’s lips curl into a little frown as he waves his hand and saves the kitchen floor from permanent stains; twin shouts are heard from the bathroom as Bokuto and Oikawa wash off the frosting.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean you just scared the shit out of some poor kids by opening the door with magic and floating the candy into their bags.”

 

“Oh.” Akaashi pauses. He doesn’t remember doing that, but it’s Halloween and his magic has a mind of its own.

 

“Yeah.” Kuroo scratches the back of his neck when he kicks off the wall, hovering closer to the island. “I’m gonna leave for a few minutes, but I’ll be—“

 

“No.” Akaashi says, and even though his voice is still as quiet as it usually is, there’s a commanding edge to it that has Kuroo’s limbs locking in place. His lungs feel like they’ve been shut down and his mind becomes fuzzy and strange.

 

Within seconds Akaashi appears in front of him, eyes wide and alarmed. Pale hands dance around Kuroo’s biceps before squeezing them and seeming to release him. Immediately Kuroo backs up until he hits the corner of the island and leans against it, lungs expanding as he sucks in a breath. 

 

“I’m so sorry.” Akaashi’s voice is raspy now. “Kuroo, I’m—“

 

“Don’t,” Kuroo wheezes. “M’fine.”

 

“No, you’re not. Sit down, I’ll get you some water.”

 

Kuroo’s still feeling a little out for the count, so he decides to just let Akaashi fuss. He can already feel his body tingling and coming back to life—or at least back under his control. The urge for blood is still as strong as ever, and spite fills up his chest like sand at the feeling. 

 

“Sorry,” Akaashi apologizes a third time, offering him a water bottle. “I—I lost control, I did it—“

 

“—without thinking,” Kuroo finishes. “Yeah. And if I don’t go out soon, that could happen to me.” Akaashi bites his lip, eyes watching his carefully.

 

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” He says, so sure of himself. Too bad Kuroo isn’t.

 

“I could,” he replies firmly. “Besides, you know how Oikawa’s timing is. He’d probably show up and see everything.” Akaashi frowns, looking ready to argue but thinking better of it, and leans in to press his lips gently to Kuroo’s jaw.

 

“See everything? Kuroo-chan, are you planning on doing naughty things to our innocent little Aka-chan?”

 

They both immediately back up and Akaashi trips on a stray cupcake. Before he can fall Kuroo lunges forward and catches him in a princess hold, falling to his knees as he fails to support both their weights. It’s simultaneously the most romantic and awesome thing he’s ever done.

 

“Um,” Akaashi stares up at him, blushing a little. 

 

Kuroo doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really know what he could say. Sure he and Akaashi kiss and fool around some, but it’s always been more of a thing of closeness and assurance than it has romance…right?

 

“I—I’m gonna—“ Oikawa falters now that the teasing atmosphere has evaporated, and they both turn to stare at him. He looks oddly embarrassed, averting his eyes even though he’s the one in only a towel, not them. “—not…be here.” He finishes lamely, turning redder before dashing out.

 

“Great,” Kuroo groans. “Now he’s gonna think we’re secretly fucking or something.”

 

“Couldn’t we be?” Akaashi asks, and Kuroo barely manages to catch himself from gaping. Then he notices the smirk curling at the edges of Akaashi’s lips and sighs, laying the witch down so they can both get up. The cupcake, crushed under Kuroo’s left knee, sticks to it when they do.

 

“Man, you’re more evil than they give you credit for,” he says, peeling the cupcake off with a grimace. Akaashi’s sharp eyes glint in the low lighting of the kitchen, and Kuroo chalks the gleam up to his imagination. “Anyway, just tell the other two idiots that I’m scaring some kids or something.”

 

“Kuroo, wait,” Akaashi grabs his wrist with one hand and reaches into his pocket with the other. He pulls out a necklace—a thick cord of leather with some sort of wood totem hanging off about the size of a satsuma. When Kuroo accepts it and takes a closer look, he realizes that it’s ashwood, a little but distinctive carving of a…snake?

 

“Huh?”

 

“Snakes are a demon’s most common animal summon. If the Lord is nearby, it’ll get hot.”

 

“I…” Kuroo stares at it, oddly touched that Akaashi would think to make something like that. He’s reminded again of why he loves his roommates. “Thanks. Thank you.” He leans in, but instead of going in for a kiss he turns his head at the last second and hugs the witch. Akaashi leans into the embrace briefly before pulling away.

 

“Be safe,” he says as Kuroo puts on the totem.

 

“I will be,” Kuroo promises, thinking of the panic on the other’s face the last time he got injured. “Besides, it’s not like the Lord would be stupid enough to go outside with so many kids out, right?”

 

 

xxxx

 

 

_It’s Halloween eve,_ Oikawa thinks, _and all of my roommates know about supernaturals_.

 

It hurts…something. His heart? He wouldn’t know, he can’t remember what it’s like to have one. But if he did, he thinks, it would feel like this. Painful. Sad.

 

Even if he’s forgiven them he can’t bring himself to feel a part of the loop. Of course, it’s totally hypocritical; he knows he’s hiding his own heritage from them just like they tried to hide theirs. But still, he feels…jealous. They all have each other, obviously. They don’t really need him; as much as they worry about him because they think he’s human, he’s more of a hassle than he is someone they want around. And he can’t exactly tell them he’s a demon. Especially Akaashi or Kuroo.

 

Bokuto, maybe, wouldn’t care. He doesn’t seem to know that much about other supernaturals. But Akaashi, well…his entire coven got wiped out. Oikawa can’t believe he didn’t connect the Alder Massacre with the ravenette. And Kuroo—a freaking hunter—has been hunting creatures like Oikawa since day one. If he knew, he’d probably grab whatever knife was on him and end it right there and then.

 

Still, Oikawa can’t bring himself to leave. As much as it hurts to stay, he knows it would hurt more to give up on them and risk their safety. He’ll leave once Ushiwaka-chan’s dead, and maybe finally find a way to be free from this hell. Take Kunimi out to a little house by the ocean and let him live his life without fearing his creator. 

 

A crow lands on the windowsill of his bedroom and Oikawa stares at it curiously. His own summon isn’t like Ushijima’s (a snake) or even like the upper-class blasphemies (a bat). However, a crow…

 

“I see you got my message,” Oikawa drawls, unlocking the window and letting the bird inside. It caws at him and hops around a little, getting a good look at the layout of the room. “But this isn’t really a good time. Nice trick though, hiding in your summon. I think I’ll borrow it sometime.”

 

It caws again.

 

“Now, now. You and I both want him dead as soon as possible, but he’s strongest tonight. So it’s a no-go on my end. But since you came all this way…” Oikawa shuffles around the contents of his bedside table and pulls out a little scroll. He grabs a discarded shoelace from the ground and uses it to tie the scroll to the crow’s leg. “You have your family on your back, don’t you? This is what I use to make sure Iwa-chan can’t find me. Don’t share it with anyone—burn it after you finish the seal. Okay?”

 

The crow seems satisfied with this, ducking out of the window in a heartbeat. Oikawa watches its wings fade into the darkness of the night, not even the moon reflecting on the smooth, glossy black feathers. 

 

“See you soon, Legion.” He whispers to himself, not bothering to lock the window as he leaves. Kunimi stirs restlessly in his shadow.

 

 

xxxxxxx

 

 

When Akaashi wakes up, something is wrong. He can’t put his finger on what it is, especially not when Bokuto’s pressed up against his back, a thigh thrown over Akaashi’s hip, Oikawa’s quiet breathing barely audible from the couch.

 

“Mgh,” he grunts as he sits up, carefully sliding across the carpet to detach Bokuto. The wolf shifts in his sleep and curls into the place where Akaashi was moments before, whining in the back of his throat. “Kuroo?”

 

The vampire makes himself known from the kitchen via pot-clanging. When his ruffled black hair appears, its wearer looks as tired as Akaashi feels.

 

“I’m trying to make pancakes,” he says. 

 

“Ah.” Akaashi wonders if that’s the best idea. “Trying.”

 

“Yeah.” Cue simultaneous yawns. “You okay? You seem paler than normal.”

 

Akaashi shrugs, still feeling extremely…muggy. He wipes a hand over his face and tries to get rid of the pins and needles in his ass from sleeping on the floor. He goes to rub a knot out of his shoulder and freezes.

 

“Akaashi?” Kuroo asks again. 

 

Akaashi is silent. He continues to scrub his hand over his shoulder blade, underneath his shirt, expression unreadable. When he finally chooses to reply, it’s quiet. “I’m not the only one.”

 

Sunlight begins to pool through the window and fill up the previously dim room, making everything brighter and clearer. Meaning Akaashi can see the exact facial expressions Kuroo makes as he realizes what the witch is focused on.

 

“Holy shit,” he breathes, abandoning his attempt at pancake batter to get a closer look. Kneeling at Akaashi’s side, he gently pries away the hand and tugs at the shoulder of his shirt until it’s out of the way. Underneath it, branded into the pale skin, is the angry red welt of a coven. It’s not a mark Kuroo recognizes, if the look on his face is anything to go by.

 

“Let’s go to the kitchen,” Akaashi suggests, just in case Oikawa or Bokuto wake up and see it. Kuroo nods, helping them both up. He pauses to drag a throw over Bokuto’s bare legs before padding into the kitchen area, resuming his breakfast fiasco.

 

“Is there any reason…?”

 

“Witches—“ Akaashi cuts off and sits at the counter, stealing some blueberries before his housemate throws them all into the batter. “Witches without covens, they’re usually…unstable.”

 

“Like wolves?” Kuroo cocks his head, considering. 

 

“A bit. It might be more difficult for you to understand. Vampires are different, they aren’t social creatures. If they host covens, it’s usually to wield most of their covenmates as dispensable weapons.”

 

“Yeah, well. I’ll do my best,” Kuroo says dryly. He doesn’t look happy about the blunt jab at his race, even if he is a hunter.

 

Akaashi sighs and eats some more berries. “People who are raised into being supernatural…it’s different from being created at a later age. The only ones you can ever trust fully are your covens—the people who understand what it is like to hide the way you do. It’s not as integral a part of our nature as it is for wolves. Witches without covens…are more like deranged hermits, they can get jealous or overwhelmed easily and hurt someone without meaning to. Leaving a mark like this is just a warning, to ward off witches like that.”

 

Kuroo frowns as he spoons the pancake batter onto the frying pan with a sizzle. “So how are you not some deranged hermit then?”

 

“Well,” Akaashi says, “because of you all.” He isn’t expecting Kuroo to stare at him in shock, a three-second layover occurring before his face turns bright red. “I’m serious. You all ground me. Ever since the night we all met, I’ve had more control than I’ve had since my coven.”

 

“You know, Bokuto said something similar once,” Kuroo recalls, leaning back and watching the pancake to see if it’ll burn. “When I first met him as a wolf. He referred to us as his pack in his head.”

 

“Yeah, well you called us all your lovers,” Bokuto drawls from the doorway, a lecherous grin spreading over his face. “So who’s really grounding who?” 

 

“Hey bro,” Kuroo nods to him, flipping a pancake.

 

Akaashi turns as Bokuto’s arms wind around him, pressing their warm bodies together to battle the morning chills. “Oikawa?”

 

“Still sleeping. He stayed up later to watch the last of the x-files.” Comes the answer, before suddenly the white-haired werewolf is stumbling back. Akaashi’s arm is stuck out from where he pushed him and Kuroo barks out a laugh.

 

“Dude,” he snorts, “did you just try to _hump_ him?”

 

Akaashi doesn’t look disgusted, but he does look fifty shades of fed up. “ _Bokuto-san_. It’s the morning.”

 

“And that’s what you say? Not, ‘Kuroo’s right here’ or ‘what are you doing’ or ‘not in the kitchen’?!” Kuroo exclaims, sounding mock-shocked. “That’s how easily you two fool around?! That’s it. Watch the pancakes, I’m getting Oikawa up.” With that, he dramatically exits, flinging his apron off as he goes.

 

“I know you heard everything,” Akaashi says after a moment. When he realizes the pancake on the grill is going to burn he replaces Kuroo’s spot by the stovetop, rolling up his shirt sleeves to get to work. The light in the room gets impossibly brighter, matched only by the energy in Bokuto’s face.

 

“Why are they bothering you if you have a coven?” Bokuto pesters, eyes wide and worried. He leans over the island so he can look into Akaashi’s eyes. “Why would they do something like that?”

 

“Because they don’t understand why mine is unstable. Everyone in the coven has to be aware of the bond for it to be a legal coven, and Oikawa…isn’t. So it’s abnormal.” A shrug, even though it’s more than just a little thing. “The bond still serves it’s purpose, even if it isn’t legal.”

 

“But you want it to be?” 

 

For a breath, Akaashi looks taken aback. “Excuse me?”

 

Bokuto doesn’t back down. “You want it to be legal? You want to tell Oikawa?”

 

There’s a long silence where Akaashi takes the time to flip the pancake over, shifting it off to the side so he can pour a smaller one in the extra space. When he looks back up Bokuto has abandoned his space by the island and is now pulling orange juice and apple juice out of the fridge. After he moves to fill the kettle Akaashi decides to stop being a coward.

 

“…I want a legal coven more than anything in my entire life.” He admits, keeping his eyes glued to the stove. “I miss…I miss feeling a part of something that can never break.”

 

“You know we’ll never—“

 

“But you will.” Akaashi whispers. He barely manages to catch it, swallowing to steady himself. “It’s not a matter of will. We’re housemates, not lovers, and someday you will want or need to move out. All of you will. I don’t want Oikawa-kun to feel obligated to stay simply because of a coven bond he can’t, as a human, understand. I don’t want him to fear leaving. And I…” _Don’t want him to hate me for being a witch._

 

Once he’s flipped both pancakes off of the stove and onto the empty plate on the counter, muscular arms wrap around his waist. Bokuto sets down the kettle and holds him close, leaning into him, resting his chin on Akaashi’s shoulder and matching their deep breathing.

 

“I will never leave you,” he says with such conviction Akaashi’s heart skips a beat. Akaashi does the only thing he can think of and turns to peck his lips to Bokuto’s cheek, shifting to press their foreheads together. Before he can say anything, though—

 

_“What the fuck, Tetsu-chan?! Get off of me!”_

 

_“C’mon, Oikawa, just let me love you~”_

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

“Why hello there~” Oikawa’s eyes twinkle as he slides into a seat at the cafe table. The sun is still bright overhead despite the late hour, and the pale heat of the sun is a balm on the cold November air. He waves at the waitress as she passes by, and she nods to him in recognition before heading back inside to bring him his usual. “You couldn’t have picked a seat inside?”

 

“Too crowded,” Legion grumbles. His black hoodie is wrapped around his thin, lanky frame, and stands stark against his pale skin. “What the fuck were you busy with last night?” He scowls at Oikawa’s grin, shifting in his seat to grab at his black coffee, gulping it before abandoning the drink for his scone.

 

“My roommates were home and we all hung out! Just because you’re a social pariah doesn’t mean you can force your nasty lifestyle upon me!” Oikawa pouts. When the waitress opens the door with her hip, carrying a plate of tea and apple cider in one hand and a platter of apple treats in the other, he perks up. 

 

“You aren’t eating enough with them around.” Legion notes sourly.

 

“You don’t eat enough and you’re alone, so there.” Oikawa shoots back. “And besides, you’re about to be _very_ invested in my beloved housemates because, get this, _they’re like us_.”

 

Legion practically swallows air. The look on his face is so hilarious Oikawa actually does swallow air and ends up choking a little bit. “Wait,” Legion says darkly, “they’re demons? That’s—“

 

“No, no,” Oikawa waves him off. “Ushiwaka-chan was attacking them and I stepped in. Ends up, under my little old roof, there is also a witch and a hunter.”

 

There’s a long pause. Legion doesn’t seem to be digesting the information well. “No shit,” he says disbelievingly.

 

“Oh yeah. I don’t even begin to understand what Kuroo-chan’s coworker is, but he’s something too.”

 

Legion lets out a breath and runs his hand over his face. “What a fucking mess. Fuck this. Why can’t this be easier. You idiot bastard, you _live_ with a _hunter_.”

 

“It’s okay,” Oikawa shakes his head and digs into an apple spice cookie, “they don’t suspect anything.”

 

“You can only digest something if it has apples in it.”

 

“…so?” Oikawa pouts. “Leave me alone. At least it’s not pumpkins like it used to be. That would be conspicuous.” They both shudder. “Anyway, what do you need to know so that you’ll fight Ushiwaka-chan with me?”

 

“I want to know more about your past.”

 

“What?”

 

Legion smirks, sensing that he’s finally gotten the upper hand. “You heard me.” He crosses his arms and waits. Oikawa’s expression morphs into something sour, and he takes the apple cider in one hand and leans back. His dirty black converse flatten a few dry leaves, the only real noise aside from the bustle inside the cafe; its location is on the outskirts of town, located at the end of a strip of charming old buildings. The streets are abandoned and the road trails off into nothingness as the city makes way for the forest. Bikes are more commonplace, and much quieter.

 

“Only a little,” Oikawa says finally. His fingers grip the mug of cider tightly as he stares down at the golden liquid. “Ushiwaka-chan is the one who created me. He wasn’t a demon lord then, so he could only create from humans or half-demons. He stole my heart and made me a demon. I’m one of the last ones he made, so I’m not really properly…tethered to him. He can’t sense where I am if I don’t want him to.”

 

“Good.”

 

“I…” Oikawa can feel Kunimi in his shadow, stirring, his instincts urging him to flee when faced with the Legion. The little demon curls around in the shadow before stretching out and escaping to the forest if not to evade, then to give the pair some privacy. “Killing, blood…it’s never been…I can’t do it. I can’t do it, not to something that can’t defend itself properly, not even after he took my… He kept making demons and I kept slipping farther away from him. Back then he had this little halfling with him, one that he rose into a blasphemy, Kunimi-chan. He felt the same way I did, so in return for him helping me, I helped him escape, too. Two nights later Ushiwaka-chan killed all of his creations and fought the other demon lords. He killed one and ate it, and the other one fell soon after.”

 

“So he’s looking for you because…?” Legion raises an eyebrow. Oikawa grimaces.

 

“We’re demons. We function off of possession, jealousy, fear, heat. He’s not keen on sharing.”

 

“He wants his creations back.”

 

For a beat, Oikawa feels incredibly off-kilter. He doesn’t understand how this is happening, how everything spiraled out of control in mere days. What were the chances he’d move in with other supernaturals? Two of which hate demons, and all of which will never trust him again. Fuck, and Iwaizumi. Oikawa doesn’t think he can do this for much longer. “We’re the only ones still existing.” He says. “Yes, he wants us back.”

 

Legion stands up, coffee finished, and zips up his hoodie. “Fine. We meet here from now on, at this time, every day. You said that little brat, Kunimi, is a part of this? Then he comes. I don’t want to come up with a plan only to have that idiot fuck it up.”

 

“That’s fair,” Oikawa says, feeling numb. He can’t believe this is actually happening. He can’t believe he’s actually going to do this. “I…okay. Hold out your hand, let’s do a contract.” Their palms clap together; Legion’s bony fingers dig into the soft flesh of Oikawa’s hand. “Neither of us speak of my relation to Ushijima. Neither of us speak of my identity to my roommates.”

 

“Agreed,” Legion says as their hands drop. For the first time, he seems to soften. He sighs and grabs one of Oikawa’s apple tarts, amber eyes flashing. “You know, it worked. The seal. So thanks.”

 

Oikawa stares. What an awkward, moody teenager this demon is.

 

“But this doesn’t mean I owe you or anything, got it?” Legion glares. He takes a big bite of the tart and backs up. “And don’t call me Legion. That’s a stupid name and I don’t know why the Bible stuck with it.”

 

“What should I call you, then?” Oikawa asks curiously, taking up another tart and biting in, humming at the burst of sweet and tangy flavors. 

 

“Tsukishima. Tsukishima Kei.”

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

In the background, a newscaster blearily reports the record being broken for inches of rainfall in a day. Bokuto believes it—it’s raining as hard as it does in the movies, enough to soak anyone in seconds. It smatters against the window in a calming thud; outside, the forest braces itself against the torrent.

 

“Think it’ll let up before tonight?” He wonders, stealing some of Akaashi’s hot chocolate. At least half of it is marshmallows, but he doesn’t mind.

 

“Hopefully,” Akaashi says. Dark circles puff out under his eyes, and Bokuto presses their sides together tighter on the couch. He worries about the witch more than he wants to some days.

 

“It’s nice to have you close,” he says.

 

Akaashi glances up at him, looking surprised. Every minute detail begins cataloging itself in Bokuto’s head—the way Akaashi’s curls shine in the low light, how his skin is creamy and soft-looking, and the little quirk of his lips which means that he’s embarrassed and trying to hide it.

 

“Sorry things have been so serious lately,” Akaashi murmurs, tucking his head under Bokuto’s chin and humming. “I don’t really like it either.”

 

“Do we have to kill it? The Lord-guy?”

 

“Well…” Akaashi pauses, mulling it over. “I suppose not. We could relocate, but that would likely mean splitting up. He might follow us anyhow, and that won't stop him from murdering others. And I doubt Oikawa-kun would leave so easily.”

 

Bokuto sets down the hot chocolate so he can turn and hug Akaashi even closer, nuzzling the witch desperately.

 

“I don’t want to be away from you guys.” He says into Akaashi’s shoulder. “I feel like you guys are slipping away and I don’t know what to do. So much stuff is happening. I don’t know how to keep you guys safe.”

 

“Oh, Bokuto-kun,” Akaashi sighs, hugging him back tightly. “I’m sorry. I wish we could go back to the way we were before it came to this town, but we can’t. For now we’re stuck like this.”

 

“I wish we weren’t.”

 

“Me too. But just—just imagine how nice it will be once it’s over.” Akaashi presses his cheek to Bokuto’s. “Besides, I don’t regret getting closer with you and Kuroo-kun.”

 

“Neither do I,” Bokuto sniffs. “I just—I just wish—“

 

“Fuck me.” Kuroo splutters as he throws open the front door. When he enters the living room they nearly burst into laughter. His hair is soaked despite the hood he’d worn, and it’s plastered to his forehead and neck. His cloths are dripping wet, and they giggle as he peels off layer after soaked layer.

 

“How was work?” Bokuto smirks, leaning into the arm of the couch and resting his arms on the back of it. Akaashi adjusts himself so he’s sitting next him, leaning back against Bokuto’s arm and still giggling.

 

“Terrible. No leads yet, we’re gonna have to find another source of information.” Kuroo grumbles. He’s down to boxers and his thin black cotton t-shirt. 

 

Grinning, Bokuto gestures his head for Kuroo to come over. Kuroo sends them both a narrow, distrustful look before slowly moving closer to the couch. When he’s close enough Bokuto reaches out and drags him onto the couch so his head is on the arm, hip pressed to Bokuto’s right thigh and legs resting on Akaashi’s lap.

 

“Shh,” Bokuto admonishes when Kuroo opens his mouth to protest. “Cats don’t talk.” 

 

With that, he begins rubbing his free hand over the skin of Kuroo’s neck, dragging his fingers up so he can run them through the dark, unruly hair.

 

“Ehh~” Kuroo purrs contentedly. When Akaashi joins in, pressing warm palms against Kuroo’s cold thighs and smoothing over the skin there, he goes slack.

 

“Cute,” Akaashi murmurs. Bokuto has to agree—Kuroo really is like a cat, craving heat and attention (in an asshole sort of way). 

 

It speaks volumes that Kuroo doesn’t respond, just groans under their administrations and buries his face into the couch. He doesn’t even react when Bokuto’s hand begins to sweep down over his chest, leaping down to reach the edge of his shirt and the bare skin underneath.

 

“You must really be tired,” Bokuto hums. His fingers rub over Kuroo’s stomach, eyes lighting up when the black-haired vampire makes a soft noise of content and curls sideways, face pressing into Bokuto’s abs.

 

“Just don’t stop,” Kuroo practically moans.

 

They couldn’t if they wanted to. Rare is the day when Kuroo is this relaxed and obedient—he’s more commonly found causing small bouts of mayhem and disorder here and there—and they’re soaking it in.

 

Within five minutes Kuroo’s passed out. Even so, when either Bokuto or Akaashi tries to retreat he makes a needy sound, shifting closer. 

 

“God,” Bokuto mutters, “I’m so fucking in love with you guys.”

 

Akaashi glances up, having been distracted. “Sorry,” he apologizes, “I wasn’t listening. What did you say?”

 

“Ah, you’ll find out later,” Bokuto smiles at him. He leans forward and kisses Akaashi’s cheek.

 

They fall asleep soon after to the crackle of the fireplace and Kuroo’s warm skin on their fingertips. Bokuto feels warmth from the bond, and it shifts as he subconsciously recognizes the presence of their remaining housemate.

 

He and Akaashi wake up three hours later. Kuroo is still spread over their thighs, now turned up to face the ceiling. His shirt is riding up where Bokuto’s hand rubs over his abs, and his expression is peaceful. Oikawa is nestled between Akaashi and Bokuto somehow, condensing his limbs into the near-nonexistent space and settling quite nicely. They’re packed as tight as sardines and, at least at that moment, Bokuto doesn’t have a care in the world.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

Kunimi knows he shouldn’t have shifted out of his shadow. He just really needed to stretch out his—well, everything. And now? Now he’s in this mess.

 

“This actually works out really well,” Akaashi says. He’s dressed nicely like he usually is, like witches usually are, in a wine button-down and black pants. Not really the best outfit for running around the woods in Kunimi’s opinion, but whatever. He looks nice so it’s at least not totally useless. He’s not the problem.

 

Well, problems.

 

Problem number one takes the form of a lanky, very sharp vampire. Kuroo Tetsurou. Even though he’s not really supposed to look into Oikawa’s roommates, Kunimi dove into the other’s family history a little and found only death and despair. Kuroo’s also a head taller than Kunimi, which is really intimidating. And he has an arm, relaxed but somehow firm at the same time, around Kunimi’s shoulders to block off any escape.

 

Problem number two isn’t actually Bokuto, even though he’s really a problem in and of himself. The problem is that, right next to the chalk circle Akaashi’s making to hold Kunimi, is an angel-summoning ward. 

 

Angels…angels don’t like demons. They really, really don’t. Kunimi could probably get Oikawa’s attention and help with his aura, but not without alerting every other demon in the area, Ushijima included. And if the angel happens to be one that likes demons, it is probably the very angel Kunimi has been told to avoid at all costs.

 

“Please don’t summon an angel,” he says, his body betraying him as he pales and leans back in Kuroo’s hold. With his cloak lost in the shadow’s he’s left in only a thin long-sleeved shirt and black pants, though his modern form is quickly becoming too energy-zapping to maintain with the circle Akaashi’s finishing.

 

“We won’t let it hurt you,” Kuroo promises, voice thick and low like honey. His hand tightens its grip on Kunimi’s shoulder, and the little demon almost feels inclined to believe him. “I won’t let it hurt you.”

 

Akaashi sends Kunimi a glance mixed with both wariness and distrust, and the blasphemy is reminded of his senpai’s predicament. No matter what Oikawa does, it’s totally possible that Akaashi will always hate him simply because of something he can’t change.

 

“Yeah,” Akaashi mumbles half-heartedly. Kunimi suddenly feels a million times worse.

 

When the witch finally settles down, Bokuto makes an appearance. His arms are full of some random stuff—a silver locket, some willow branches, and a few ugly rocks that apparently hold significant meaning—which he sets down before Akaashi (his boyfriend?). When he spots Kunimi, his face goes scarily blank before a smile appears.

 

“So! You’re the little demon!” He exclaims, bouncing over.

 

“Don’t scare him off, he’s skittish.” Kuroo chides, but there’s a dangerous smirk on his face. They’re both worse than demons, Kunimi thinks. 

 

“Well?” Bokuto asks, getting up in his face, “do you eat enough? You’re pretty skinny! And where did your cloak go?”

 

“I eat…sometimes…” Kunimi looks to the side. He’s really uncomfortable right now, and unsure of what to say or how to act. The only people who have ever shown actual, human-like concern for him are Oikawa and Iwaizumi, and both of them have known him for years. This is just really strange. “My cloak’s in the shadows. I didn’t think I’d need it.”

 

“Oh! So it serves like a purpose, then?”

 

“It hides my aura,” Kunimi admits only when it becomes completely obvious that both Bokuto and Kuroo are waiting for an answer. What he doesn’t expect is Akaashi to pipe in.

 

“Is this not your true form?” He asks, dark eyes unreadable. “You mentioned your aura; it’s strange.”

 

Both Kuroo and Bokuto seem to sense the disdain in those words, because they sigh a little and Bokuto leaves Kunimi’s side to sit next to his proclaimed boyfriend and huddle against him.

 

“Come on, Akaaaasssshhhhiiiii,” he moans. “Isn’t he cute? He’s so young and tiny! There’s nothing evil about him.”

 

Something about this statement really seems to get to Akaashi, because he flicks out his wrist and suddenly all the magic energy is leaving Kunimi’s body. His eyes shift into an unnaturally-glowing dark blue. The bruises he’d focused on hiding resurface, and his shackles become heavy weights on his wrists and ankles. His shirt vanishes. His pants billow out from black jeans to soft harem pants, tapered just at the ankles. He has just enough energy to keep from shifting straight into his traditional Japanese form—or worse, his summon.

 

Kuroo hisses a little, digging his fingers into the pale flesh of Kunimi’s shoulder and tucking the demon farther underneath his shoulder, as if to shield him. His expression is twisted into a scowl.

 

“Akaashi, come on.” He says sharply. “Let’s do the summon.”

 

Akaashi still looks irritated, and he shoots a glare in Kunimi’s direction before shifting his attention to the summoning circle. 

 

“Why do you need me for this?” Kunimi murmurs, still trying to work out an escape route in his head. With a tense chuckle Kuroo averts his attention from his roommates to focus on the demon under his arm. 

 

“You can confirm whatever the angel tells us. Not that it’ll lie or anything, but, y’know, they’re not really known for getting their facts straight.” He opens his mouth to say something else, but instead is interrupted by a flash of light and a strange, clean smell.

 

“What th—oh, a summon?” 

 

Kunimi tenses at the sound of that voice, and Kuroo makes a huffing noise as he barely manages to grab the little demon trying to run. 

 

“Hey, what’s up with you?! I told you I’m not gonna let it hurt you!” He hisses, hooking his arm around Kunimi’s waist and hoisting him up against his shoulder. It doesn’t matter, Kunimi is overwhelmed by the presence of not only an angel, but _that_ angel. It’s too much, at least until—

 

“Kunimi?!”

 

Within an instant Kunimi is free of Kuroo’s arms, a new pair of thicker arms holding him carefully under his knees and around his back. When he looks up, he finds himself staring into Iwaizumi’s warm chocolate eyes.

 

“What did they do to you?” He demands, kneeling so he can let go of Kunimi’s knees and drag his hand around, searching for hidden injuries. Every bruise his fingertips brush fades, and when they pause at the shackles Iwaizumi’s expression tightens.

 

“Wait, you two know each other?” Kuroo asks. When Kunimi turns his head he can see the other getting up, brushing the dirt off of his ass and checking for any unfortunate mud stains. 

 

Iwaizumi opens his mouth to say something when Kunimi grabs him by his soft robes and yanks him forward; instinctively Iwaizumi’s wings fan out, shielding them from the other three. Iwaizumi wavers in surprise, nearly losing his balance.

 

“They don’t know about Oikawa-senpai, these are his housemates. T-they can’t know.”

 

Understanding clears up Iwaizumi’s expression; he nods gravely as he retracts his wings and leans back, Kunimi still resting against his arm. He watches the other three with an unreadable expression, already willing to protect Oikawa’s identity. Kunimi’s heart swells, wishing he could somehow get it through Oikawa’s thick head how important he really is to Iwaizumi.

 

“This isn’t the first time we’ve met.” The angel says carefully. He seems uncertain of how much he can reveal without risking Oikawa.

 

“He helped us escape the…the Demon Lord.” Kunimi puts in.

 

That’s not good enough for Akaashi, who stands angrily with his dark eyes narrowed.

 

“You’re protecting a demon?” He asks, expression dark. “I’m sorry, have I missed something? Because the last time I checked, angels didn’t prioritize the safety of creations whose only purpose is to _destroy_!”

 

“Akaashi—“ Bokuto tries to intervene, but the witch is having none of it. His eyes are glassy and…hurt?

 

“No!” He exclaims, and even Kunimi knows this is extremely out of his character. “I don’t understand, so explain! Explain why you would help a murdering demon who can only spread hate and despair and—“

 

“I’m going to ignore what you just said,” Iwaizumi says slowly, “because if I don’t, I’ll seriously want to hurt you.”

 

Silence echoes through the forest. Wind slips between their figures and unsettles some of the leaves, and when Iwaizumi looks up at the witch there is fire in his eyes.

 

“Kunimi has _never_ killed. Not a single soul has ever been harmed because of him. He risked his existence to save the person he’s in hiding with, from the demon he is _still_ shackled to.” His expression is brutal, yet nothing he says is a lie. When he stands Akaashi takes a step back. “You didn’t ask to be born a witch. Do you think he chose to be a demon? Do you truly believe he has no soul? Can you honestly tell me he doesn’t feel pain, or love, or fear?”

 

“I…”

 

“You’re Akaashi Keiji, aren’t you. A single demon attacked your coven. Do you judge all vampires by the actions of one? Or werewolves? Why are demons different?” Iwaizumi’s hands slowly clench and unclench. “You know nothing of them or their society. No one does. And because of incorrect, misconceived notions, no one tries to. How can demons honestly avoid the preconceptions of their kind without unconsciously fitting to them?”

 

Tears are running down Akaashi’s face by the time Iwaizumi is done. Kuroo glances between them uncertainly, catching Kunimi’s eyes as if in a question before moving to follow Bokuto’s lead and hug the witch.

 

“We need some information on a demon lord.” He says once his arms are wrapped firmly around his housemates. Iwaizumi balks.

 

“And what makes you think I’ll give it to you?”

 

“Because it’s the same lord Kunimi’s shackled to, isn’t it?” Kuroo doesn’t say it like a question, his expression still dark and intimidating even as he grins. “And we’re going to kill him.”

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

It’s one of those rare days when Oikawa and Kuroo have the house to themselves, what with Bokuto and Akaashi out doing god-knows-what. Both of them are still in their sweats, eating the remains of the apple cupcakes and watching old episodes of Lost Tapes on the couch. Each lean against an arm, their legs slotting together in the middle like puzzle pieces.

 

“You know,” Oikawa says, pressing his foot against Kuroo’s stomach, “your abs are pretty defined. Share your secrets.”

 

In the background, one character nearly gets slaughtered by an alien. At least, it might be an alien? It looks more like el chupacabra. 

 

Kuroo swats the foot away and points accusingly at the cupcake in Oikawa’s hand. “I don’t eat that junk, that’s why.”

 

“Are you calling me fat?” Oikawa pouts, tangling up his foot in Kuroo’s shirt and licking some frosting off of the top of the cupcake. “That’s rude, Kuroo-chan, even for you.”

 

“Shut it, you know you’re hot as fuck.” Kuroo gets a devilish look on his face and switches up their positions so he’s hovering over his housemate, forearms pressed against the arm of the couch on either side of Oikawa’s head for balance. He leans down and swipes some of the frosting off the cupcake with his tongue. 

 

“Oh?” Oikawa’s expression turns utterly mischievous as he arches his back, sliding their abdomens together. His thigh presses up between Kuroo’s legs and he smirks. “Seems like you think so, too.”

 

Still, he doesn’t make any moves past that. His body is reacting naturally to Kuroo, feeding off of the sexual desire like it’s life energy, and he’s almost…afraid, that this is some kind of line he’s crossing. But he needs the energy…training out with Kei-chan is exhausting at best, and he’s running out of resources fast. Besides, even if he wasn’t getting energy out of it, it just feels good.

 

Kuroo groans and rocks into his leg the same time he slots his own right between Oikawa’s hips, and then he _presses_. Oikawa breathes out in what may or may not be a gasp, eyes snapping open.

 

No. He can’t. Because he actually really likes all of his housemates, he probably even loves them, and that means no. No feeding off their sexual energy, no letting his pheromones deceive him into thinking they actually want this. But as Kuroo leans down, Oikawa finds ways to effectively ruin the mood flying out the window.

 

So he shoves the cupcake into Kuroo’s face.

 

Kuroo is not amused. He leans back, swearing under his breath, and glares halfheartedly at Oikawa through a face full of frosting. “What the fuck was that for?”

 

Thankfully Oikawa knows exactly how to soothe Kuroo’s bruised pride. He leans in and sucks a bit of frosting from the corner of his lip, feeling the swell in Kuroo’s energy and greedily soaking it in. 

 

“Because the first time we make out, it’s not going to be to some deprived teenager getting their soul sucked out through their nostrils.”

 

“Oh,” Kuroo says, looking honestly surprised. He turns to the television and does, in fact, see a teenager getting their soul sucked out. 

 

With a sigh he reaches for the remote and puts it on mute. “You’re such a demon,” he snorts, dragging Oikawa forward until they’re cuddling on the couch. Then he rolls Oikawa’s shirt off without warning, somehow getting it past the arms and head with little difficulty, and uses it to wipe the frosting off his face. He seems to notice how Oikawa stilled at the comment and rolls his eyes, settling his housemate between his legs and holding him close. “Don’t be pissy, we love you just the way you are.”

 

“Yeah,” Oikawa whispers under his breath. “Not for long.”

 

He doesn’t think Kuroo hears.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

 

“Are you sure he’s around here?” Daichi asks, peering around some trees. The trunks are thick, their diameter close to his wingspan, and he rests on a branch and lets his wings settle against his back. “If he’s injured, he might have gotten help from someone.”

 

Iwaizumi lands next to him, eyes narrowed. “I’ve been tracking him for almost a year. I know when he’s injured, and I know what he’s like. He has no one to turn to, he’s probably being an idiot again.” 

 

“I’m not questioning how well you know him,” Daichi assures, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Deciding it’s better to distract the other angel before he works himself into a fit, Daichi changes the subject. “So, catch me up on the demon lord situation.”

 

“Bakawa’s got it in his stupid head that he has to fight it by himself. He doesn’t want anyone else to get hurt. At least since I followed his roommates I can find him now. Knock some sense into the bastard.” Ah, yeah. Daichi remembers the battle nine months ago, when Kunimi snuck Iwaizumi into the shadow realm and they all barely escaped. Iwaizumi got in a good hit that made it near impossible for Ushijima to enter the shadow realm, and in return…he’d nearly gotten his wings cut off. Daichi shudders at the bloody memory forever etched in his mind.

 

“Has he tried recruiting anyone?”

 

“Yeah. He’s got it into his head to go after the highest-level demons he can even if they’re not trustworthy. The idiot.”

 

Daichi sighs. “You’ve obviously got something hidden up your sleeve, though.” He points out.

 

With a smirk, Iwaizumi crouches on the branch and stretches out his wings. “Yeah. His housemates think that the demon lord is just going after the hunter. They have no idea what it’s really about. Hopefully if things go right, they’ll kill the lord before Oikawa has a chance to.”

 

“And if they don’t?”

 

Iwaizumi turns away and Daichi resists the urge to sigh a third time. The other is being pig-headed again, the way he usually is with Oikawa-related matters, but Daichi can’t say he doesn’t understand. His entire family has a touchy subject, someone they’d do anything for…and if Iwaizumi needs someone to help him save his family, he has Daichi’s entire flock behind him every step of the way.

 

“Wait,” he grabs the back of Iwaizumi’s robe just as the other is about to take off.

 

“Why did you—“

 

“Shh,” Daichi presses his hand against Iwaizumi’s mouth and draws him back towards the trunk of the tree. Once they’re hidden he lets go and peers down.

 

A small black fox trots by, sniffing a few times and working its way around the tree before padding off into the underbrush. Both angels sigh in relief, glad it wasn’t another creature or, worse, human. They drop down, feet touching the earth silently. Not even the leaves stir.

 

“Isn’t a fox Oikawa’s summon?” Daichi asks.

 

Iwaizumi nods. “Guess we’d better follow it. He probably sent one out to check for other beings in the area.” 

 

They share a glance before folding their wings tight against their backs and heading in the direction the fox went. Daichi spares a glance back just in case, but no one’s following them. Even though it’s midday, no animals are out and about save for the fox, and that makes him wary. 

 

“This way,” Iwaizumi whispers, ducking under some low branches of…holly? Daichi eyes the strange growth with a frown. Holly usually grows where fallen angels try to use their wings…

 

No. He can’t think about that.

 

Blood drips down from one of the leaves and catches his attention. “Iwaizumi!” He hisses, grabbing the other’s arm and pointing to the blood. “He’s close. Let’s try tracking his aura now. If he’s this wounded, he might not have his cloak on.”

 

They both hesitate before Iwaizumi closes his eyes and sucks in a breath. “Alright. Make sure I don’t trip on anything.”

 

“Right,” Daichi agrees, holding onto the other’s elbow to keep him steady.

 

When Iwaizumi opens his eyes, they have faded from brown to grey. His eyes dart around before sharpening onto a point just ahead. Immediately he takes off, and it’s everything Daichi can do to keep them both from falling.

 

They turn around a trunk and reach a clearing, and all the breath leaves Daichi’s body.

 

“Oikawa!” Iwaizumi exclaims, blinking his eyes back to normal as he takes in the scene. Oikawa’s chest is tattered, and his shoulder is torn in several areas. He’s slumped against the trunk of a tree across the clearing, eyes unfocused and hazy. 

 

A black inky mess of what was once a demon is splattered on the ground in a nasty, inhuman heap, but that’s not what Daichi’s staring at.

 

He takes a step forward.

 

“…Kei?”

 

The lean figure wrapped up in a black hoodie freezes from their position next to Oikawa. With a surprised grunt Iwaizumi glances up at the figure and his expression drops in utter shock.

 

When the figure finally looks towards them, they stare into the wide amber eyes of Tsukishima Kei.

 

Immediately he draws back into a snarl, jerking forward with a hand shrouded in dark magic and forcing Iwaizumi to scramble back. “Stay away from him.” He demands coldly. They notice one of his hands his pressed to Oikawa’s shoulder, a special sort of glow to it. Healing magic. _Angel_ magic.

 

“Kei,” Daichi says slowly, taking a short step forward. “Kei, it’s me.”

 

“I know,” Tsukishima’s voice is vicious and mean, before suddenly a cough wracks his body and blood splatters against the tree trunk. He wipes the blood off of his mouth with the back of his free hand but it just ends up smearing over his lips. “Stay the hell away.”

 

“Kei—“

 

“Shut up. How the fuck did you find me?”

 

“Hey!” Iwaizumi barks, startling the other two. His eyes are steady and fierce. “Stop trying to blame him for everything. I’ve been tracking this idiot for months, the only reason we found you is chance.”

 

Tsukishima’s amber eyes narrow as he weighs this response. Then he leans back against the trunk of the tree and hunches his shoulders in, looking life-weary.

 

“Fine. _You_ try healing him, then.” He says bitterly. “It’s nothing big, anyway. A demon he wanted to work with tried to kill us, but it obviously couldn’t. I just can’t—” he cuts himself off, a sour look on his face.

 

Despite his words for them to stay away, he doesn’t move from Oikawa’s side as Iwaizumi approaches. Daichi can’t help but wonder what sort of relationship they have; he hasn’t seen Kei this loyal to someone since Yamaguchi. Or maybe…maybe it’s just that the two demons understand each other.

 

He watches Iwaizumi’s glowing hands press gently against Oikawa’s shoulder, and wonders what all of Oikawa’s housemates are doing.

 

 

xxxxxx

 

 

“He’s still not answering his phone,” Kuroo growls, slamming his hand against the wall.

 

From over on the couch, Bokuto snacks on some pretzels. “You guys are totally overreacting,” he says. “Like, he’s probably just in town or something and forgot to charge it.” He rolls over on the cushions so he can look at Akaashi, who’s pacing by the windows. “C’mon. Sit down, let’s chill or something! Hitch is on.”

 

“No.” Kuroo and Akaashi say in unison. Bokuto rolls his eyes.

 

“But he’s only been missing for like six hours.”

 

Akaashi’s eyes narrow. “He’s been going to a cafe every morning. The Lord could have kidnapped him on the way.”

 

“Bro, you’re both—“ Bokuto cuts himself off and tilts his head to the side. His housemates whip around and stare at him.

 

“Do you hear something?” Kuroo asks.

 

For a tense moment Bokuto looks uncertain. Then a relaxed smile breaks over his face and he hops off the couch to walk over to the door. When he opens it, Oikawa is walking up the front steps, tired and scuffed up but perfectly fine.

 

“Bro!” Bokuto greets, gathering up his housemate in his arms and squeezing in a tight hug. Oikawa wheezes from the force of it, weakly slapping a hand against Bokuto’s back in protest. He looks like he’s had a rough day, Bokuto notes. “Kuroo and Akaashi are like freaking out!”

 

“Huh?” Oikawa asks when he’s back on two feet, still a little out of breath. Now that Bokuto’s noticing, his brunette friend does seem a little worse for wear. There are a couple cuts on his cheeks and arms, and his jacket is missing. And his smell…Bokuto leans in and presses his face underneath Oikawa’s jaw and takes it in. Overall fine, but something happened because there’s pain lacing it. “Uh, Kou-chan? You’re…smelling me.”

 

“Are you hurt or something?” Bokuto asks, backing up a little. At his words Akaashi and Kuroo appear behind him, both armed with scrutinizing gazes.

 

Oikawa practically shrinks away from them. “A little, a little! I went on a run in the woods and ended up, uh, tripping…but it’s ok, I went to that one herbalist place and they fixed me up!”

 

“But you’re ok? Like, ok-ok?”

 

“Jeez, you guys are acting like I was kidnapped or something!” Oikawa exclaims, dramatically making his way into the house. “Is there a serial killer running around that I don’t know about?”

 

“We were just worried about you,” Akaashi says, sounding a little hurt. Even though Bokuto knows Oikawa has a point, that he doesn’t know about demons or werewolves or hunters, he can’t help but feel for Akaashi. He doesn’t like the only human in his pack running around both ignorant and defenseless, either.

 

Oikawa seems put off at that, making a funny face before striding into the kitchen. He drops the contents of his pockets there—a napkin from the cafe, the house keys, and his cellphone—and turns around.

 

“Okay. You know what? I’m done. I’m done dancing around whatever the fuck this is.”

 

They all freeze. Oikawa does look done—his expression is brutally unforgiving, and when he leans back against the island and crosses his arms and tilts his chin up, it’s the universal sign of a challenge.

 

“What do you—“

 

“Oh, don’t screw with me.” Oikawa interrupts Akaashi, mouth twisting into a frown. “You guys run around the woods, _at night_ , without telling me _anything_ , and expect me not to ask about it. But then you freak out when I don’t answer my phone for a few hours? Give it up. What are you hiding?”

 

Bokuto feels the blood draining from his head. He really, really wants to tell Oikawa. Akaashi obviously does too, with the anticipation wafting off of him. Kuroo’s the only mixed bag, and even he seems to be relenting to the force that is Oikawa. 

 

Finally Akaashi steps away from the kitchen and past the couch area, over to the fireplace. He sits down on the loveseat and gestures for the others to join him. Bokuto doesn’t need any more prompting than that, immediately bounding over and sitting on the floor by one of the plush velvet chairs. Kuroo chooses the space next to Akaashi, probably so he can watch Oikawa’s reactions when they tell him; Oikawa sits in the velvet chair, pressing his legs into Bokuto’s back for unasked comfort.

 

“There’s…the reason why we’ve been going into the woods,” Akaashi picks over his words carefully, “is because we’re helping Kuroo catch a murderer who’s been—“

 

“Stop lying! I know, okay?! I know.”

 

Oikawa’s words cut them like glass. They’re sharp and heavy and _blunt_.

 

“What?” Akaashi’s voice cracks.

 

“I. Know.” Shifting in his seat, Oikawa stares down at the carpet. “I know you’re a witch. And I know Tetsu-chan’s a hunter.” He leans forward and looks them dead in the eyes. “I know. So don’t lie to me.”

 

 

xxxxxxx

 

 

Oikawa really doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. So, instead of panicking, he makes up a list in his head.

 

He knows his roommates are hunting Ushijima. He knows they’ve summoned Kunimi before, that they’ve summoned Iwaizumi (and really, fuck them for doing that), and he knows that they think he’s human. He knows Kenma knows he’s not. He knows they don’t know about Tsukishima, and that they think Ushijima’s going after them because Kuroo’s a hunter.

 

He knows that Iwaizumi’s going to do everything in his power to help Oikawa’s housemates kill Ushijima. And that, in doing so, almost everyone Oikawa cares about will probably die.

 

When he looks up, there is absolute fear in Akaashi’s eyes. And yeah, okay, that makes sense given people’s past reactions to witches (*cough*the witch trials*cough*). But he can’t let them know that he isn’t freaking out, because he should be. A human would be. And if he acts too relaxed about this, they’ll realize something’s off with him and dig. 

 

“Oikawa…” Kuroo tries, but his words fail him. He looks down, shellshocked. Bokuto turns with wide eyes and hugs his arms around Oikawa’s legs as if to keep him from walking out.

 

“How?” Akaashi’s voice cracks.

 

Oikawa clenches his fists. “You were doing black magic in our _living room_. You’ve been running out every night, leaving weird books out all the time—what, do you think I’m blind or something? I know how to use google. I’m not—I’m not stupid.” His eyes well up with tears. There’s a burning sensation in his chest from the lies. He feels like such a hypocrite.

 

But…if they think he knows, it’ll be easier to make sure they don’t jump the gun on attacking Ushiwaka-chan. It’ll be easier to make sure him and Tsukki can kill the Lord before they do. It’ll be easier, when he reveals he’s a demon, to cut them off and run.

 

“Hey,” and Oikawa flinches, wondering when Kuroo got so close as the hunter rests his hand against Oikawa’s cheek. “We don’t think you’re stupid. We just…wanted to keep you safe.”

 

Ha. Like that’s even possible.

 

“W-why…why are you even here? How…why would you want to…with me…”

 

“Well,” Kuroo chuckles sadly, “we didn’t exactly plan this all. I didn’t even know these two idiots aren’t human.”

 

That makes Oikawa pause. He stares, wide-eyed, at Kuroo before swiveling his gaze to the white-haired man tightly hugging his legs together. “…Kou-chan?” He asks quietly. No. No way in hell.

 

“I’m a werewolf,” Bokuto mumbles into Oikawa’s knees, his hot breath sending shivers up Oikawa’s spine. “Please don’t hate me. Please don’t hate us.”

 

“What?” Oikawa asks, finally managing to get it together at least a little. “I don’t.”

 

It’s Akaashi’s turn to be surprised. “But—we lied to you,” he blurts. “We lied, and manipulated you, and hid things from you—“

 

“Hey, now.” Kuroo intervenes nervously, “keep that up and he _will_ hate us.”

 

“I won’t.” Oikawa persists.

 

“It’s okay if you’re not—“

 

“No, I’m—I’m ok. I’m ok. I don’t hate you guys, I—god, I lo—“ Oikawa cuts himself off, slapping a hand over his mouth. He can’t say it, he doesn’t deserve to say it, not when he’s lying to the only people he cares about. Not when he’s forcing their hand and hiding his own.

 

Their eyes are warm and careful as they gather in close. Kuroo moves from kneeling in front of Oikawa to sitting on the arm of the chair; Akaashi squeezes in on the little space left on the cushion. They lean in and hug him.

 

Oikawa wants to be able to read their expressions, because he just knows that they’re having one of those silent conversations behind his back, but he can’t. Because he’s too busy crying. He’s never felt more humiliated; he’s never felt more horrible in his entire life, and his eyes well up at that thought.

 

He really is a demon.

 

Heartless.

 

“Shh,” Akaashi whispers, obviously still shaken even as he tries to calm Oikawa down. It’s no use; once the tears have started there’s no stopping them. “We’re…we’re sorry.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Oikawa sniffles. He keeps wiping his eyes with his palms but it just makes them red and itchy. “I’m so sorry.”

 

They shift to hold him as he cries and, even though he knows he shouldn’t, he lets them.

 

 

xxxxxxxxx

 

 

Kenma likes waiting. At this time of night the train station is always empty, and there is a special sort of calmness about being in a place that is, at any other time of day, packed and chaotic. Grass persistently grows between the crevices of the cement floor, the cracks from an earthquake a few years past. The sky is clear and dark, the moon half-mast.

 

For once, he doesn’t have his PSP out. Instead he basks in the stillness and waits. He likes waiting.

 

After ten more minutes of quiet the wind rolls in, unnatural and smooth as it licks around his ankles. Kenma doesn’t move, even as he makes out the near-invisible cloak. It doesn’t take long for the Demon Lord to drift into existence, jeweled horns a rotting black, skin pale and flawless like dark porcelain.

 

There is something pitiful about this one, Kenma thinks. 

 

It takes several sliding steps, as if the ground were ice and it a skater, from one edge of the station towards the other. The light of the overhead lamp would have reached it’s cloak, had the bulb not broken weeks prior.

 

Once it is satisfied with its position, it reaches up and unhinges its cloak, the material dropping past its shoulders and into its shadow. Underneath it wears no shirt, only a nice pair of black pants. Its feet are bloody; there are whiplashes crisscrossing its spine in what Kenma knows can only be self-inflicted patterns.

 

It holds out a hand and the air shifts, a mirror-like apparation hovering before it. In the mirror it sees a little demon with dark brown hair parted down the middle and wide eyes. It growls in pain and swipes the mirror away, staggering.

 

He thinks maybe he should say something, but in the end he does not. The demon takes several steps before fading back out of existence. 

 

Kenma closes his eyes. There are only three hours until the sunrise, and he has a nagging feeling that Kuroo will be extra dramatic today. He imagines the transportation schedule is printed on his eyelids and scans it for the next ride into town.

 

The train station is empty and nice, and the moon hangs low in the sky. The next train won’t come for another two hours, but that’s alright. Kenma likes waiting.

 

 

xxxxxxxxx

 

 

Akaashi feels like his world is a fishbowl, and someone capped it and _shook_. Everything is out of place, uncertain, scary. 

 

He’s having trouble facing Oikawa. It’s cowardly to hide, he knows that, but…he’s never, never met a human who knows about witches. Not even when he was in his old coven did he know one. And to think Oikawa knew for so long…

 

But this is what Akaashi wanted, isn’t it? Since Oikawa knows they can make the coven pact complete—if he agrees, that is. No more hiding, no more sneaking around or making Oikawa feel left out. The human even admitted that he loves all of them.

 

So why does Akaashi feel so sick inside?

 

“Mm, stop thinking. It’s distracting,” Bokuto mumbles against his neck. They’re pressed together in the werewolf’s bed, snuggled up and cozy. 

 

“I can’t help it. What if—“

 

“Nooo,” Bokuto grumbles, wrapping his arms around Akaashi’s waist and rolling them over. 

 

Akaashi struggles briefly before giving up. “I can’t breathe,” he says, voice muffled by Bokuto’s shoulder. “I…”

 

He what? Akaashi searches for an answer but can’t think of one. Instead, all he can see are the faces of his parents.

 

“Have you ever killed someone?” He murmurs. It’s a half-thought, one he doesn’t realize he’s said until Bokuto freezes up and draws away slightly. Akaashi frowns and puts a hand on Bokuto’s cheek. “I won’t—please…” The words don’t come out right for some reason.

 

After a hiccup Bokuto sits up so he’s straddling Akaashi, eyes wary. There are little scars criss-crossed along his tan arms; not bad cuts but not little ones, either. Underneath his jaw and close to the hairline of his neck is a deeper nick, and his left ear is worse for wear. They make him look amazing: fierce and strong. 

 

“Yeah.” Bokuto looks really uncomfortable. “A hunter, once. And…another pack’s alpha.”

 

Akaashi reaches up and brushes his hands against Bokuto’s arms, tracing the scars. He’s mystified. Some sort of feeling is wrapping around him, close to fear and pain but also not unlike—“shame,” he breathes.

 

He feels ashamed.

 

How could he let his resentment blind him for so long?

 

“What?” Bokuto asks, nonplussed and a little afraid, as Akaashi rolls away from him and off of the bed, dragging on a long-sleeved t-shirt and grabbing a pair of Bokuto’s warm socks.

 

Akaashi pauses before he leaves the room, hovering in the doorway before turning around and moving back towards the bed. He gently cups Bokuto’s cheeks and smiles fully, for the first time in what feels like forever.

 

“Thank you,” he says, face glowing with genuine happiness, and leans in and kisses the other. Bokuto makes a pleased noise, following Akaashi when he pulls back. “I’ll be back later, there’s something I need to do.”

 

Akaashi leaves feeling lighter than he has in years.

 

 

xxxxxxxx

 

 

Heaven’s not an easy place to describe. There’s lots of…light? Iwaizumi thinks this is why humans can’t see it. It’s like trying to explain another color. The only real thing about it he can put into words is that there is a place where it’s less what it is everywhere else, closer to what it would look like if shadows were like a fog permeating the air. Inside that area is a gate, and inside the gate, sometimes, is Oikawa. His best friend. His brother.

 

“You said you have something you needed to tell me?” He asks uncomfortably, his fingers resting on his bare shoulder. 

 

Daichi and Sugawara are lounging under what Iwaizumi guesses could be a tree. A light tree. But the others are all nearby—Nishinoya, the two girls, Yamaguchi, Azuwhat’shisname, and the loud one—and listening intently.

 

“Yeah,” Daichi says seriously. He pats the spot in front of him and Suga; Iwaizumi sits complacently. “It’s about the other demon who was there.”

 

“The blonde one? What about him?”

 

“Tsukishima Kei, that’s what we called him before he fell.” Daichi leans forward. “Now he’s called Legion.”

 

Iwaizumi chokes on his own spit. “That was Legion?!” He exclaims. “How do you know him?”

 

“That’s what I called you here to explain.” 

 

“Okay, then explain it.” Iwaizumi feels tense knowing that Oikawa’s already in contact with one of the most dangerous biblical demons of all time.

 

“He used to be an angel in—well, I guess in our ‘family’.”

 

“If Suga’s mom and Daichi’s dad, Tsukki’s the angsty youngest son,” Nishinoya pipes in, making them all jump. Suga sighs and rolls his eyes, but Daichi smiles and puts an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders.

 

“He usually stayed here, but if Yamaguchi wanted to go to Earth he’d go along with it. One day—“ Daichi cuts himself off and looks down. He swallows, reaching out for Suga’s hand and gripping it tightly. “One day they went down, but something was wrong. Usually when they ran into demons they’d go ignored, but this time…the demon attacked them. Kei killed it, but he got cut with a demon blade.”

 

Iwaizumi sucks in a shocked breath. Demon blades… _they’re real?_ He thought they were just a myth.

 

Daichi continues. “He immediately got possessed by Legion. He didn’t think he could be saved and he didn’t want us to get hurt, so he ran away. We’ve…we’ve seen him sometimes, but he always—“

 

“—slips through your fingers,” Iwaizumi finishes in a whisper. God, how did this happen? He thinks of Tsukishima crouched by Oikawa’s side when the other was injured. But… “You’re wrong.”

 

“What?”

 

“You’re wrong,” Iwaizumi leans back and rests on his hands. “He isn’t running from you because he’s afraid he’ll hurt you, at least not anymore. He doesn’t want you to see what he’s become.”

 

“What? Why?” Sugawara asks, still looking lost. 

 

“Because if he’s anything like Kunimi or Oikawa, he’s ashamed. Angels’ve never had the best impression of demons, and now he _is_ one. That’s enough to screw with anyone’s head.” Iwaizumi closes his eyes. “Damn. What a mess.”

 

If the others see the tear rolling down his cheek, they don’t say anything about it.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

 

It’s been three days since Akaashi’s spent more than a couple hours in the house. At first Kuroo was worried about him, but now he understands. The witch isn’t retreating, he’s training. He’s had some sort of mental breakthrough, even if he hasn’t shared what it is yet.

 

Which leaves Kuroo and Oikawa with an Akaashi-deprived, owl-loving idiot to look after.

 

“Oi,” Oikawa says from his position on the couch, “I really need to pee. Help.”

 

Kuroo raises an eyebrow at him. Oikawa’s in a horizontal state, head angled to stare at the tv, and Bokuto’s asleep on top of him. With a snort Kuroo shakes his head and takes a bite of cinnamon roll. 

 

“Nah,” he says.

 

“You suck,” Oikawa pouts. “Where _is_ Kei-chan, anyway?”

 

“Mm…secret. Only non-humans get to know,” Kuroo teases, finishing off his roll and licking the frosting from his fingers. When Oikawa’s expression falters and crumbles a little at his words, a wave of guilt washes over him. “I guess you’re the great exception, though. He’s training.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“So he doesn’t have to use books. He’s memorizing it all.”

 

Oikawa’s eyes are wide. “Why? Is he at a magic school or something?”

 

“This isn’t Harry Potter,” Kuroo snorts. “There’s a nasty creature running around killing people, so we’re gonna get rid of it.”

 

For some reason, Oikawa still doesn’t look appeased. “Why would you do that?! Won’t you get hurt?” He demands.

 

_Ah, so that’s why_. He’s worried. Kuroo tries to think of something reassuring. 

 

“No,” he lies. “Maybe like a scratch or two, but nothing serious.” 

 

“But—“

 

“You’re so warm,” Bokuto interrupts them both, snuggling further into Oikawa with a satisfied hum. Said human struggles underneath the weight but still can’t get free.

 

“Just—just promise me you’ll be safe?” Oikawa says, once he’s certain Bokuto’s back asleep.

 

“Yeah,” Kuroo says. “I promise.” He hopes he can keep it.

 

 

xxxxxxxxx

 

 

_It’s time_ , Akaashi thinks, closing his eyes and letting his awareness expand past the forest around him. It’s been a long couple of days, but it’s all worth it. He feels so much more connected to himself, to the earth, and to his magic. Spells used to feel like tools; means to an end. Now? Using magic is as natural and purposeful as moving a limb.

 

He’s had a lot of time to reflect on his actions. Now, more than ever before, he’s going to take responsibility for them.

 

Wordlessly he spreads his fingers out, humming, and a summoning circle draws itself on the forest floor. Within seconds the cloak of shadows appears, wrapping around an invisible form to fully conjure it before fading. Kunimi is left in its wake.

 

When the demon realizes that Akaashi is alone, his eyes grow wide in fear. But Akaashi knows now. He understands, and he’s determined to grow past the fear and anger he feels in his heart even now.

 

“Hi,” he says uncertainly. Kunimi stares at him, pale and shaking. God, it— _he_ looks so young. 

 

Akaashi doesn’t know how else to start besides holding out his hand. He isn’t surprised when the demon hesitates to take it.

 

“Hi,” Kunimi answers.

 

“My name is Akaashi Keiji.”

 

“I know.” An awkward beat. “My name’s Kunimi.”

 

“Do you have a last name?”

 

“…no?” Kunimi tilts his head. 

 

Akaashi wonders about that, filing it away for later purposes. “I’m a witch.”

 

“I’m a demon.”

 

“What kind?”

 

“What kind are _you_?”

 

“What kind of witch?” Akaashi clarifies, and Kunimi nods. “There aren’t any kinds.”

 

This seems to surprise the demon. “Aren’t there elemental witches?”

 

“No,” Akaashi’s lips quirk as he hides a smile. He doesn’t want Kunimi to think he’s being mocked. “We can use whatever elements are available on hand.”

 

“Oh,” Kunimi murmurs, looking a little disappointed. Not for the first time, Akaashi wonders how he had so blindly hated such an obviously innocent creature.

 

“Are there elemental demons?” He asks. Kunimi shakes his head silently. “Ah, I—“

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“Excuse me?” 

 

Kunimi crosses his arms. Now that he’s deemed Akaashi only a small threat, he’s getting bolder. “You hate me,” he says, sounding confused. Akaashi winces.

 

“I was angry,” he amends.

 

“Everyone’s angry, just at different things,” Kunimi retorts. “You _hate_ me.”

 

“I don’t—“

 

“Hate is only something people can do if they don’t know someone properly,” Kunimi recites, and Akaashi falls silent. _Did I just get lectured on hate by a demon?_ He wonders, bemused. 

 

“I don’t hate you. Maybe I did once, but not anymore.”

 

“Oh,” Kunimi says, looking really confused. When Akaashi sits down, though, he follows suit, drawing his knees up to his chest and letting his cloak hang off his shoulders. “Why not?”

 

“Iwaizumi-kun, partially, and Bokuto. For some reason my human roommate made me reflect the most,” Akaashi admits, reaching into his pocket and retracting a piece of chocolate. He’s surprised to see Kunimi’s expression become blanker, more inverted. “Don’t you want some?” He asks. Honestly he thought bringing something sweet might warm the demon up to him, even if only a little.

 

Kunimi shakes his head, almost…sulking? It’s hard to tell on such an empty face. “I can’t eat it,” he mumbles.

 

Oh, Akaashi thinks, sagging in relief. He already knew that certain demons could only eat specific foods. “You can; I put a bit of magic into it. If all went well, it will just be sweeter than regular chocolate.”

 

“Sweet…” Kunimi murmurs like he doesn’t understand the word, his dark eyes drifting down to the chocolate in Akaashi’s hand. Akaashi doesn’t need more prompting than that to hold it out in silent offering.

 

Kunimi’s eyes light up when he tastes it, not hesitating to shove the entire block in his mouth. Within seconds he’s crying.

 

“Um,” Akaashi says when he realizes, having not expected that reaction.

 

With no other options besides simply waiting it out, he reaches forward and pulls Kunimi into his lap. The demon is small in size and thin, though thankfully not bony. They’re both close in height but Akaashi’s certain he could overpower the other if need be—he wants to trust the demon fullheartedly like Bokuto and Kuroo seem to, but he knows that will take time. His chest clenches at the thought of having a demon so close, but he reminds himself that this is a living, breathing creature. Not a monster.

 

“Is it good?” He asks when Kunimi’s calmer, cheek pressed to Akaashi’s chest and hands furiously wiping at his still-blank face. 

 

The demon finally looks up at him, and now there’s a happy little smile on his usually blank face that wrenches Akaashi’s heart and rips it into little pieces. 

 

“I’ve never tasted anything better in my life.”

 

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on my way back,” Kuroo drawls into his phone, rolling his eyes as he shuffles into the train station. Even though they live in the outskirts of a small town, everyone from the cities nearby rides the same train on the weekdays because of the popular view of the forest. It’s packed; a couple girls giggle as Kuroo ends up pressed next to them.

 

_“Okay! Akaashi says he has something important to tell us tonight and Oikawa’s baking again! Come back soon before I eat everything!”_ Bokuto’s voice is almost too bright. Kuroo feels like he needs a shield or something; he’s always preferred the shadows anyhow. He gives the affirmative and hangs up before the werewolf has a chance to blind him.

 

“Ugh,” someone nearby grumbles, and the timbre of their voice catches Kuroo’s attention.

 

Oh? He thinks at the sight of soft, curly blonde hair. Said hair belongs to a lean figure getting pressed further and further towards the back of the station, presumably away from their intended destination.

 

Being the gentleman he is, Kuroo can’t just stand by and let that happen. Especially not to someone that hot.

 

Reaching out and grabbing the hot blonde’s hand results in what feels like a lightning bolt running through his arm. Exciting. The blonde glares at him through a pair of glasses, skin luminous in the low afternoon light.

 

“Don’t touch me,” blonde beauty snaps, trying to snatch his hand back. Kuroo just laughs and holds on, happy that he has an opportunity to be both charming and an asshole at the same time.

 

“The station gets so busy at this time,” Kuroo says, his voice going low and suave. “You sure you can get through it alone?”

 

“I can try,” blonde beauty snarks, trying and failing again to free his wrist. His pretty amber eyes narrow as they’re both jostled forward and into each other by the crowd. “…fine.”

 

“Yay~what train are you—“

 

“Four,” blondie scowls as they’re pressed firmly chest-to-chest. Kuroo swiftly draws them into a pit of foot traffic, cleverly maneuvering their direction against the current until they’re standing exactly where they need to be. He grins at the blonde and turns—

 

—and his grin drops as he realizes that the blonde’s hand is pressed firmly to Kuroo’s hip, right where his cursed blade is hidden. Fuck.

 

The blonde seems to know exactly what it is, because his expression doesn’t even waver.

 

“You ever kill a demon?” He asks, voice toneless. 

 

“Have you?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Oh? Kuroo leans in. “Guess we have that in common.” He notices that blondie keeps his hand away from the actual hilt, only touching the sheath. 

 

“What’re you here for?” Blondie growls.

 

“Same reason you’re here, probably.” Kuroo smirks. “The Lord.” Is this another non-human hunter? That explains why they can’t touch the blade, but Kuroo’s never heard of a demon hunting other demons.

 

Blondie’s eyes narrow. He goes to retract his hand, probably slip away in the crowd, but Kuroo reaches under his jacket and grabs blondie’s wrist in an iron grip, tutting his tongue like a disappointed parent. 

 

“Ah ah ah,” he says. “A demon that kills other demons? I can’t just let you walk away without an explanation, y’know?”

 

Blondie breaks eye contact and glances around at the other people. Both their bodies are tense pressed against each other; one trying desperately to break away and the other holding on tight, and both doing their best not to cause a scene and attract unwanted attention.

 

“I gotta say,” Kuroo continues talking enough for the both of them, “I don’t really know that much about demons. I know one, but unfortunately we haven’t had much time to ask him anything important.”

 

“We?” Blondie hisses.

 

“Oh, yeah. You know witches and werewolves, they’ve just gotta travel in groups.”

 

It’s probably meant to be intimidating, but Blondie freezes like he’s figuring something out.

 

“You’re Kuroo Tetsurou,” he mutters. “Fuck me.”

 

“I would, but I’m not really into demons.”

 

To his surprise Blondie’s lips curl into a sneer, like he’s laughing at a joke Kuroo’s not in on. “Oh, you’re so full of shit you don’t even _know_.”

 

Well, well. Someone has a sharp tongue. Kuroo opens his mouth to respond but the blonde beats him to it.

 

“You think this is all about you? Please.” Blondie laughs. “Just like a vampire to be arrogant like that. Get it through your fat head: you’re not important enough for a demon lord to even _glance_ at.”

 

“What do you mean?” Kuroo asks dangerously. 

 

“I mean he’s after you, but he’s not _after you_.” 

 

“What does that even mean?” 

 

“It means,” Blondie hisses, “that you aren’t looking at the big picture. And if you don’t figure it out soon you’re going to fuck everything up for everyone.”

 

“Figure out _what_?” Kuroo’s just plain bewildered at this point. He doesn’t understand why this demon seems to know so much about him, or why he’s (sort of?) trying to help a hunter. “What the hell are you talking about?”

 

Blondie just shakes his head, looking annoyed. “If I could fucking tell you outright don’t you think I would’ve already?”

 

“Look, I—“ Kuroo freezes. In the corner of his eye, staring at them from the opposite corner of the station, is a cloaked figure. The other passengers scurry through it like it’s smoke, like…like it doesn’t exist. The demon lord. It takes slow, menacing steps towards them, people running through its form without noticing.

 

“Fuck, he found me,” Blondie sounds just as scared as Kuroo feels. Scared, and angry. His eyes flash a bright and angry red and he reverses their positions so that he’s the one grabbing Kuroo’s wrist, taking careful steps back. “I’m going to transport both of us. Hold your breath the entire time. If you breathe even once I will know and I will break your fucking neck.”

 

That’s all the warning Kuroo gets before his world is swallowed by a cold, dark void.

 

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

The scariest moment of Bokuto’s life happens right about then. He’s sitting on the couch waiting for Akaashi and Kuroo to get home. A warm apple smell is wafting over from the kitchen, where Oikawa skitters around baking pretty much everything that involves apples as an ingredient. 

 

One minute Bokuto’s watching tv, waving goodbye to Oikawa as the brunette steps outside to water the plants, and then another minute the tv shuts off and lights flicker and the world isn’t right. Something feels _bad_ , and then a second later Kuroo and a long-limbed blonde guy are on the ground, the blonde guy rearing back a fist.

 

“What the fuck?!” Bokuto screeches, kicking back and falling off the couch from the force of it. The blonde hesitates and turns to eye him and Kuroo uses that as an opportunity to throw his weight over the stranger and pin him to the ground.

 

“Man, you’re the best, bro,” Kuroo thanks him. Underneath the blonde squirms and snarls, eyes flashing red and shadow twisting around angrily. 

 

“I fucking told you _not to breathe_ , you fucking idiot! Do you _want_ to die?!” He growls, fighting Kuroo’s tight hold. 

 

“Well if you’d just tell me what’s going on—“

 

“Shh!” Bokuto says urgently, and they all freeze. Outside they hear Oikawa move away from the potted plants by the front door and farther away from the house. “Who’s blondie?”

 

“None of your business!” The blonde guy—kid, really, since he can’t be older than nineteen—hisses. “Let me go.”

 

“He’s a demon,” Kuroo says. He sighs and leans back, and the demon pushes himself free. 

 

Bokuto’s curiosity is officially piqued. He hasn’t met any other normal demons besides Kunimi, who’s way more skittish than this little sour apple. “Yeah? How did you do,” he flaps his hand around, “that?”

 

“Shadow travel,” the demon grunts, glaring at them both. 

 

“Cool! Can I—“

 

“No way in hell.”

 

Both Bokuto and Kuroo snicker. The demon rolls his eyes.

 

“He saved us from the demon lord, too,” Kuroo mentions, leaning back on his hands and waggling his eyebrows. Upon hearing this Bokuto’s expression strikes a chord between worried and protective. 

 

“What?! You saw him?! How did—“

 

“Shut up,” the demon growls, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just shut up, both of you. This sucks. This is the last time I try to help any of you fuckers, I swear to god.”

 

“Oh, come on, you—“

 

Kuroo’s interrupted by a weird puffing noise, and suddenly the blonde is gone, shadow traveling the hell away from them. 

 

Bokuto turns, still half-fallen off the couch. “Bro, what even just happened?”

 

“God, Bo,” Kuroo sighs. He chews over everything that conspired in the past ten minutes. “I don't even know.”

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

Oikawa can feel his heart beating in his ears he’s so nervous. His hands are shaky as he plays with the napkin in his lap, and what’s worse, he knows both Bokuto and Kuroo can hear his heartbeat. Both are shooting him worried glances across the dinner table.

 

“I…Oikawa, you don’t know this, but I used to have an old coven.” Akaashi begins. “They got killed by a blasphemy, which is a kind of demon.”

 

“I…” What’s he supposed to say to that? Oikawa feels so lost and overwhelmed and _tired_. Tired of games, tired of hiding. He doesn’t think he can take much more of this, but he has to. He has to hold on, just until he can kill Ushiwaka-chan…

 

“It’s alright,” Akaashi shakes his head. “Ever since then, I’ve had trouble trusting people, controlling my magic. And ever since then I’ve hated demons.” Oikawa’s heart twists painfully. “But I’ve trained a lot the past few days and it’s cleared my mind. Oikawa-kun, do you know what a coven is?”

 

Oikawa shakes his head. 

 

“It’s like a family. It helps witches control their magic and stay grounded to their limitations.” Oh, _god_. No, no, no no nononono— “Will you guys be my coven?”

 

Tears well up in Oikawa’s eyes and before Bokuto and Kuroo can notice them, he quickly musters up some dark magic and masks his face. Even though he’s crying, all his housemates can see are bright eyes and a happy smile.

 

“Woah, Aka-chan! I mean,” Oikawa swallows to get his voice under control. He really hopes Akaashi didn’t notice the use of magic. “I’m honored! But can I, like, sit on it? Just for a while.”

 

All three of them are staring at him now; Kuroo’s eyes are narrowed, like he can tell something’s off but can’t figure out what. Akaashi looks sad and hopeful, and Oikawa can’t even imagine how much courage it must’ve taken to ask a _human_ to be in a coven.

 

God, he’s _such a coward._

 

“Of course.” Akaashi nods with a gentle smile. He masks his pain well, far better than Oikawa ever could.

 

“Now that the serious talking’s done, let’s dig in!” Bokuto exclaims, cutting the conversation off before it can make the mood any tenser. So they do.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

 

“This is so stupid,” Tsukishima mutters, kicking at the ground with his dirty converse. He’s standing in a graveyard, and the rain pelts down and soaks through his thin jacket like it’s made of paper. 

 

Does Oikawa really think he can keep this up? At this point, even he has to realize how foolish he’s being…doesn’t he? 

 

And fucking Kuroo Tetsurou. Makes Tsukishima want to slam his head against a wall.

 

“How did this even happen?” He asks one grave, sighing and crouching in front of it. His pale fingertips brush the grave. 

 

He hates being a demon.

 

“Fuck,” he grunts when the rain gets harsher. Water licks at his cheeks and drips from his hair; he’s completely drenched. He really, really doesn’t want to be out here, so why is he? 

 

Something’s been bugging him ever since Oikawa approached him about working together. 

 

“You called me here?” Kunimi asks from behind him, flinching as he leaves his shadow form and is hit by the water.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“…about…what?”

 

Tsukishima pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why do demons turn other demons?”

 

“What?”

 

“Don’t fucking stall.”

 

Kunimi wanders around the graves. “Usually to form an army,” he says. “Or to defend against hunters.”

 

“But what happened when _he_ made more demons?”

 

“He…he killed them.”

 

“Haven’t you ever wondered why?”

 

Silence.

 

“You said they need followers for a purpose, but he killed all of his,” Tsukishima says. “Are you really saying you’ve never asked yourself why?”

 

Kunimi’s trembling. He remains silent.

 

“You _know_ , don’t you? You’re not stuck in a binding promise like I am, yet you still haven’t told him.” Tsukishima hisses, white hot fury flaying his skin. “God, _you know_ , and you’ve let Oikawa think—“

 

“You can’t tell him!” Kunimi begs. Suddenly he’s right in front of Tsukishima, grabbing his sleeves with shaky hands and looking up desperately. “Please, don’t tell him. I can’t—if he knows, he’ll—I can’t lose him. Please.”

 

Tsukishima knocks him off and Kunimi falls into the mud with a whimper.

 

“Pathetic.” Tsukishima mutters. The lightning cracks and he’s gone.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

Supposedly, wolves are supposed to be able to sense danger before it happens. It would explain the strange, tense feeling that’s left Bokuto’s limbs all stiff and jumpy. 

 

He’s alone in the house this afternoon. Akaashi’s out training even though it’s raining, Oikawa’s out in town, and Kuroo’s at work. For once his energy is low, and he’s been spending the entirety of his day thinking about the demon lord. Like, why is it after Kuroo? Kuroo says he’s gone through all of his old cases; he’s never killed anyone with ties to the lord.

 

More than anything, he hates feeling stationary. Kuroo can go out and research, Akaashi can train in the woods, and what can Bokuto do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

 

Why can’t his packmates rely on him for once?

 

Things feel too _still_. Bokuto can’t imagine why the demon lord would give them all this time to prepare for an attack. Does he _want_ to die or something? Then again, Bokuto doesn’t really understand demons that much.

 

With a sigh he pushes himself up off the floor, only to drop onto the couch a couple steps later. The bad feeling just won’t go away and it’s really bothering him. So he shuffles around his pockets until his phone is located, and then he dials up Kuroo.

 

_“Everything good, bro?”_ Kuroo asks the second he picks up.

 

“Nah, K-batz. I have a bad feeling.”

 

_“You had a bad feeling about letting Oikawa bake, before we knew he was some kind of pastry prodigy.”_

 

“I also had a bad feeling about Akaashi’s cooking,” Bokuto reminds him.

 

_“Point taken. Give me ten minutes to pick up some pizza on my way home.”_

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

“Oikawa, get the fuck down here,” Tsukishima bites out, shivering under the torrential rain. God, he misses October; at least then it wasn’t constantly flooding everywhere. He’s standing outside the house; an ashwood dust lines it in a circle, and in the form he’s in now he can’t get inside.

 

On cue, said bastard pokes his head out the front door and squints at him, frowning. “Tsukki? What are you—“

 

Tsukishima clenches his hand and lets his true form begin to unearth. His skin pales and greys, his eyes ring red, his teeth sharpen. His long fingers are coated in strange and expensive rings, and his ears are pierced in every possible place, cuffed in between. He is more than himself, and he can feel the creatures inside of him wrestling for control.

 

“He’s after you.”

 

Oikawa makes a weird face at him. “…yeah? I know?”

 

“No,” Tsukishima growls, and it comes out like a hiss. Ten voices where there should only be one. “He’s after you. It’s _always been you_.” Then, “I’m breaking the contract; to hell with working with you. Oikawa, he created you because you’re the only thing he could twist and grow enough to make as powerful as him. He looked in you and saw potential. That’s why he killed your family and manipulated you into signing his demon contract.”

 

Oikawa’s eyes widen. “Y-you know how I—“

 

“Please,” Tsukishima scoffs. “I’ve always known. And he’s been _playing you_ for _years_ because you’re the only one who can do it.”

 

“What, kill him? Why would he make me then?”

 

“You’re so blind.” Tsukishima growls. “He _wants_ to die!”

 

Oikawa’s eyes widen. He takes a step back, but the other isn’t finished.

 

“You may try and hide it, but you’re a demon through and through. You’re the only one who’s ever managed to escape him, and you did it using your dark powers. So I don’t care how _ashamed_ you are of them, or if you’re _afraid_ of your housemates finding out. Accept that you will _never_ change, get your head out of your ass, and FINISH IT ALREADY! This shit has been going on for long enough, and if you keep putting it off and being an asshole, everyone you care about won’t be able to hate you because they’ll be _dead_!”

 

“You—“

 

“Fuck you! I’m taking your housemates into the woods tomorrow night, and we’re fighting him with or without you. Guess we’ll find out if you really are heartless or not.”

 

Tsukishima breathes heavily after that. He’s never said so much in one go, and certainly not with that much emotion. He grins cruelly and opens his mouth to say something even more manipulative, but when he looks up, Oikawa’s gone. Even his aura has vanished.

 

“Fuck,” he mutters. _What did I just do._ “Fuck, fuck fuckfuck—“

 

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

 

“I still can’t figure out why I’m actually listening to you,” Kuroo grumbles as blondie—Tsukishima? Tsukki.—drags him froward through the muddy ferns. The forest is quiet around them, save for Akaashi’s quiet steps and Bokuto’s loud, abrasive splashes. The near-silent clunking of all of his gear reminds Kuroo exactly what they’re doing. 

 

Tsukishima stares on ahead. “Kunimi, I know you’re out here.”

 

“Eh?” Kuroo raises an eyebrow. _So they know each other, too?_ He pauses and thinks for a minute. _Wait, are they getting wrapped up in our mess? Or…is it the other way around?_ Too late now, he guesses.

 

It’s almost nightfall, and they haven’t seen Oikawa since that morning. Kuroo’s beginning to think their resident human isn’t taking things as well as he’d like them to believe—they notice when he’s on edge, and the way his heart raced when Akaashi asked them to be in his coven. Oikawa’s upset about something, and Kuroo’s going to find out what.

 

In the corner of his eye he sees Kunimi materializing out of thin air. He looks pale, and his cloak is caked in dry mud. He glances at them wearily before directing his gaze to Tsukishima.

 

“You’re going to fight him.” He says quietly.

 

“Yeah. So?” Tsukishima growls.

 

“I…I came to help.”

 

A heartbeat later and the little demon is tucked safely under Bokuto’s arm, Akaashi at his side. Kuroo raises an eyebrow at that, and the witch just gives him an I’ll-tell-you-later and presses his hand comfortingly to Kunimi’s shoulder.

 

Tsukishima stops walking by a tree with strange markings, and the housemates inspect it curiously.

 

“Summoning some demon friends?” Bokuto asks hopefully.

 

“Are you going to bring a monster or something?” Kuroo wonders.

 

Tsukishima scowls. “What the fuck do you think I do in my spare time?”

 

“Kill people,” Kuroo shrugs.

 

“Haunt graveyards,” Bokuto says. When he feels their vacant stares he tries to explain himself. “You know, you’re all shadowy and stuff! If I was shadowy like that that’s what _I_ would do.”

 

“Yeah, well, this isn’t Scooby Doo.” Tsukishima grumbles, pressing his hand against the summoning markings. Within seconds a flash of light nearly blinds them, and then Iwaizumi is standing there. He has decorated silver plates on his forearms and shins, and a sword is strapped to his hip. 

 

The angel sweeps his eyes over the group and frowns uncertainly. “This feels too last-minute.” He says.

 

“Well,” Kuroo mutters, “thanks for the vote of confidence. Who brought you here, anyway?”

 

“I did. And he’s right, this is last minute,” Tsukishima answers, “that’s the point. He can’t see us coming if we’re completely unpredictable.”

 

For all that this is unplanned, Kuroo thinks, at least the demon is thinking strategically.

 

Maybe they won’t all die, after all.

 

“Yeah, as much as I love hanging around with an imminent threat looming over me, I prefer killing him now over later.” Kuroo mutters, and next to him Akaashi shifts. The witch has a thick book tucked under one arm but it’s essentially for show; Akaashi’s magic surpassed written words back when he trained in the forest.

 

_Wow._ Kuroo thinks as he takes a mental step back and looks at his roommates. _I really love these guys._ The worst outcome he can think of is one of them getting hurt, not Ushijima escaping, and that says something. 

 

“Fine,” Iwaizumi says as he crosses his arms. “What’s the plan?”

 

Tsukishima points deeper into the forest. “Kunimi’s going to lure him once we’re all hidden. Bokuto and Kuroo are in Akaashi’s coven,” he points at them in turn, “so their hiding places will form a triangle. That formation aids Akaashi’s magic. We’ll use that to seal _him_. I’ll go in while he’s weak and kill him.”

 

“Why am I here then?”

 

“Because,” Akaashi cuts in, “if Ushijima fights my hold, I’ll need someone to heal whatever injuries I sustain.”

 

“And Kunimi will be safe?”

 

“As safe as I ever am,” Kunimi says dryly. He gives Iwaizumi a tired look and the angel bites back a grimace. 

 

“Fine. I—fine. Let’s do this, then.”

 

They walk deeper into the forest.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

Kenma stares up at the starry sky and thinks of home. It is a long way away, a place he can never return to, but he finds himself thinking of it more often lately. The sky is clear and dark, swallowing up the moon until all that is left is a lazy cheshire grin.

 

In his pocket, his PSP makes a little beeping noise and shuts off. _Oh well_. He saved a few minutes prior anyhow.

 

The air seems still, and as he walks past polished stones, he lets his mind drift to the demon lord. He wonders if they’ve figured it out yet. Probably not, he thinks. They’re stubborn like that.

 

It’s almost time. He can feel it in his blood, in the shadows, in the way the rabbit bounds across the surface of the crevice moon. With steady hands and quiet breaths, he lowers himself in front of one slab of marble and rests his hand against it. Underneath his fingertips it is cold and smooth.

 

This place…this place is home, he thinks. Not his, not yet, but home all the same. No matter what people do with their lives, who they love, who they hate, what kind of person they are, they return here. Just as Kenma will, too. Perhaps, though, when he returns it will not be the same place he once left. Things tend to change like that.

 

He traces the name Ushijima Wakatoshi where it is engraved into the stone. Somewhere far away, a lone demon looks up at the sky and mourns the foolishness of his loved ones, searching in the night for the people he calls family. When Kenma finishes tracing the ‘i’ he stands and readies himself. The lone demon is on his way. In the shadows, a Lord shifts and awakens.

 

It is time.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

It didn’t go according to plan.

 

That’s the first thing that runs through everyone’s minds as they scamper back. 

 

The Lord is huge—a hulking mass that’s half person, half shadows. Each step he takes shadows roll off him like the fog of dry ice, drifting into the air and making everything taste stale. He looks sickly, moreso than before, with his hollowed cheeks and hungry eyes. 

 

In his grasp, Kunimi tries not to panic. Kuroo and Bokuto are both ready to fight, eyeing them warily from their hiding spots as Tsukishima shakes off his shadow cloak and steps into the containment circle. There’s no getting out now, and Ushijima’s eyes dilate as he turns his head to look at the new demon. His grip on Kunimi’s neck tightens and the littler demon wheezes, hands grasping desperately at Ushijima’s thick arms.

 

Akaashi is practically unconscious in his hiding place, eyes half-open, hands outstretched. Iwaizumi kneels by his side but even he knows that at this rate they’re not going to get out of this. At all.

 

They had no idea how strong Ushijima’s magic is. Kuroo and Bokuto, during their fight in the woods, had been under the impression that the demon couldn’t even attempt to use any magic but dark; the only brand of magic particular to demons. Yet the lord is using a variety of spiritual attacks without even breaking a sweat.

 

In front of them, standing in the center of the clearing, Ushijima is still growling in Akaashi’s weak grasp, rolling around spiritually to free himself. Akaashi’s hands are bruised and shaking, but he still holds on. In a few minutes Iwaizumi will be completely empty of spiritual energy, so he really hopes Tsukishima is able to do this quickly.

 

“You’re not the one I’m looking for,” Ushijima growls. Its voice is low and gravelly, sitting in the pit of its stomach. It sounds…in pain?

 

Wind ruffles Tsukishima’s light blonde hair as his eyes flash; they drain from amber to red briefly, then the warm tones fade until a glowing, cold blue remains. His skin is tinged grey and he takes a shuddering gasp of air; when he releases it, his breath comes out as steam.

 

“Well, we’ll just have to make due,” he says quietly. Ushijima’s eyes narrow in distaste, and he drops Kunimi to the ground. Before the littler demon can scramble to the edge of the circle Ushijima’s foot whips down, cracking against his skull. He falls to the ground, unconscious. 

 

Kuroo and Bokuto make eye contact from their hiding spots. Bokuto looks _livid_ , his fingers clenched into white-knuckle fists, blood streaming from the bite of his fingernails. 

 

“Perhaps,” Ushijima answers darkly. When he darts forward his speed surpasses Tsukishima’s; the blonde is barely able to bring up his arms to block the attack. As they begin to spar Akaashi gasps in relief.

 

“He’s distracting it enough,” the witch whispers. “It’s not struggling anymore.”

 

“Yeah, well don’t count on that for long.” Iwaizumi mutters. Tsukishima, the famous Legion, is already losing. Badly.

 

“I can’t hold him forever, Iwaizumi-san.”

 

“I know.” Iwaizumi grimaces as Tsukishima’s thrown clear across the circle and smacks into the invisible barrier, crumpling to the ground. He gets up to his knees. “I’m going to do something. Sit tight.” And then he’s crawling away to Kuroo, staying out of Ushijima’s sight.

 

When the vampire finally notices him coming, he looks tired. Tired, weary, everything Iwaizumi doesn’t associate with that species. 

 

“Listen,” Iwaizumi whispers. “Tsukishima is going to lose. But I have another plan, and I think it might work.”

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

“Hey.”

 

The Lord, Ushijima looks up. At his feet Tsukishima is a bloody mess, hair stained red and arms littered with burns and cuts. He looks like something out of a horror movie, bloody and tangled in a disgusting array of limbs. In the other end of the circle, Kunimi stirs. A knot as big as a child’s fist is forming on his temple.

 

“Hajime.” Ushijima murmurs, looking interested. Almost hopeful. “Your wings—“

 

“—are still up and functional, yeah. Do you remember how we met?”

 

Ushijima shakes its head. A vein throbs in Iwaizumi’s forehead, but he keeps his cool. As he speaks, Kuroo and Bokuto shift into position.

 

“Well you’d better not forget this, then. Because you may not remember it, but that night is the only one I will never, _never_ forget.

 

“We were a happy family. When I was little, I had this childhood friend, and we were like brothers. My dad died in a fire and his mom had cancer, and once we were older our parents fell in love and got married. We joined volleyball together, we got through all this shit in middle school together. And then—and then _you_ appeared. I remember. You killed our parents and I saw you do it. And I tried to protect him from you, but I wasn’t strong enough. You killed me and tried to eat my soul, send me to hell. But my friend, my idiot brother, he couldn’t let that happen.”

 

“Ah,” Ushijima grunts. Its eyes widen.

 

“You remember that, then? So you also remember agreeing with my brother to trade my soul, in exchange for his heart?” Iwaizumi’s expression is dark. “I wasn’t strong enough to protect him then, but I am now.”

 

He lunges forward and grabs Ushijima’s biceps, forcing them both to slide back to the edge of the containment circle through sheer brute strength. Within seconds Kuroo jumps out behind them, and while Ushijima’s back is turned the vampire leans forward and sinks his blade in, hilt-deep.

 

The air compresses.

 

Ushijima takes several steps back. Having broken the containment circle, Kuroo moves away as the demon stutters and stares at the tip of the blade protruding from his sternum. Nearby, Bokuto is completely shifted and ready just in case.

 

“Fools,” Ushijima whispers. And then it is upon them.

 

With a quick motion it releases the blade and cracks the blunt end against Bokuto’s skull, just as the wolf leaps into an attack. Bokuto falls to the ground, completely still. Ushijima stretches out a hand and murmurs something, and Iwaizumi suddenly can’t move. He panics, breathing harshly and trying to escape an invisible grasp.

 

“You,” Ushijima says, and Iwaizumi realizes that Kuroo’s stuck in the same invisible hold. “This blade is nice. It won’t kill angels.” It shifts the blade in its hand. “But it can be used to clip them.”

 

When it steps forward it readies the blade, and Kuroo feels a wrenching surge of fear and desperation as the weapon swings up and forward.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

Oikawa feels like time isn’t moving. All he can see is blood—blood, everywhere. Splattered on the ground. Soaking the trunks. Staining massive hands. He’s too late. Time is standing still, and yet he’s still _late_. Always late. If only—he shakes.

 

His housemates…

 

His family…

 

His…his _family_ —

 

No. “You’re a _demon_ ,” he whispers, trembling. Every pair of eyes still open turn to him.

 

Akaashi looks terrible, his hands charred and black up to the elbows and eyes red-rimmed and watery. Bokuto’s unconscious but at least looks unharmed. Tsukishima—Tsukishima might be dead, he thinks with a knot in his throat. Iwaizumi and Kuroo fight an invisible hold that keeps them pinned in the air, and Kunimi—

 

His breath stutters. 

 

Kunimi’s eyes meet his. The little demon smiles, half-standing, half-crouching in a protective stance in front of Iwaizumi. There’s a thick dagger lodged in his chest.

 

_I’m sorry,_ he mouths.

 

“Kunimi-chan…” Oikawa whispers, too quiet for anyone to hear. That’s all the time he gets before Ushijima is upon him, hands around his throat, eyes livid and bright and alive. It’s terrifying. The spiritual presence is staggering.

 

“NO!” Kuroo yells, fighting the magic hold so hard the invisible binding begins to cut at his arms. Blood weeps down his bare skin. “He’s not apart of this—let him go!”

 

Ushijima’s mouth curls into a mundane smile, and Oikawa suddenly remembers something.

 

_He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know who I am._

 

Has it been that long? Or is it simply that Ushijima never saw him in his human form? The possibilities make him feel crazy.

 

“I hate humans,” Ushijima murmurs as he drags Oikawa away from the underbrush and into the clearing.

 

“No, you don’t. You wish you were one.” Oikawa hisses, and the grip on his throat tightens. Blood drips at shifting feet as Kuroo slams into his invisible restrains, a feral growl rising like bile in his throat.

 

“Oikawa, shut up! Don’t provoke him!” He bites out, eyes watering. “Just—fuck—“

 

“ _I hate humans most of all_ ,” Ushijima’s voice is wrangled as he holds up Oikawa’s limp form for the others to see. “Do you understand? None of you are strong enough. You cannot save yourselves. You cannot even save one weak, little human.”

 

Oikawa meets Akaashi’s gaze from where the witch is slumped against the bloody trunk of a tree. His eyes are raw, even as Oikawa sends him a tight, sad smile and shakes his head. _Please don’t think this is your fault._ He maintains that eye contact even as Ushijima pulls out a knife of its own, smooth steel, and plunges it into Oikawa’s ribs.

 

“I hate humans,” it growls, and waits. Waits for Oikawa to die.

 

“Good thing I’m not one,” Oikawa says, and then he’s shifting. He lets his shadows consume him and drag him out of Ushijima’s hold, and he only has a moment before he lets go of his human form entirely and digs his hand into his heart. He can feel it pulse around his fingers, connected to nothing, pumping an oxygenless blood, struggling to stay steady. He lets the persona of a demon roll over him. _I don’t care. I don’t care about anyone but myself. I don’t need anyone but myself._

 

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to try,” he murmurs as Ushijima surges forward to attack. Then his heart is ripping out of his chest, a portal opening beneath them as he throws the inky black mass into the ground. They begin to sink but Oikawa lifts himself quickly, shoving Ushijima down to do so. The Lord becomes trapped as he shifts halfway between worlds.

 

“I’ll be needing this,” Oikawa says with cheery violence, fisting Ushijima’s dark raven hair. The portal closes around the demon lord’s neck. As soon as it happens the head crumbles into ash, but briefly, Oikawa thinks he sees a smile. 

 

At least someone got their happy ending, he thinks bitterly.

 

“…Oikawa?” Kuroo’s voice is hoarse and broken and too, too close. Oikawa takes a deep breath, knowing what he must look like. His skin is pale, his eyes glow a burnt orange-red. The ink of his heart is splattered over his torn white shirt. He turns around.

 

Time to face the music.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

The next few minutes are very confusing for Akaashi. His magic is completely drained and he can feel his chest struggling to rise and fall, struggling for life. His hands ache—at least, he hopes they do. It might be a phantom ache.

 

He’s trying to stay on the bright side. Really.

 

He saw Oikawa get stabbed—or maybe he didn’t, Ushijima was blocking most of Akaashi’s vision. Most of what happened after is a mystery, since he blacked out.

 

Without moving, he tries to get a sense of where his fingers are. He can’t move them, and with that comes panic. Iwaizumi isn’t coming over to help either, even though Ushijima is presumably dead, which is bad.

 

It means someone is more hurt than he is.

 

“Oh, god, Akaashi.”

 

…Bokuto?

 

Akaashi opens his eyes and sure enough, he can sort of make out his white-haired housemate among the blurs of his vision.

 

“I don’t know what happened, I got knocked out. Tsukki’s pretty messed up, but he’s breathing. Ushijima’s dead.” Leaves shift between them as Bokuto scoots closer. “Akaashi, don’t move, okay?”

 

It doesn’t matter; Akaashi tries anyway. He needs to know if his hands…he needs to see how extensive the damage is.

 

“Hey,” Bokuto’s voice is soft and comforting. He doesn’t try to stop Akaashi, he just presses their foreheads together and lets the proximity calm them both down. “Your hands are here. I’m holding them, they’re, like, so tiny compared to mine.”

 

“Are they—“ Akaashi’s voice cuts off as he coughs up black smoke. Damn, that demon magic really messed him up inside. 

 

“They’re not looking so good,” Bokuto admits with a hint of fear. Akaashi stiffens up, can feel himself start to tremble. He feels so overwhelmed, so afraid, and his hands—his _magic_ , his magic is in his hands, how is he supposed to—

 

Bokuto’s lips are pressed against his own and his mind shutters to a halt. 

 

“I’m afraid too,” he whispers. “Let’s get through it together.”

 

He rocks Akaashi slightly, back and forth, back and forth, and they try to keep it together.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

“Oikawa,” Kuroo croaks, falling to his knees. His entire body feels so heavy, it takes effort just to blink. “Oikawa…”

 

His body might be breaking down, but his mind is _alive_. Everything is sliding into place. He had his suspicions that Oikawa was something, but this? It’s almost laughable. At the end of the day, though, Kuroo doesn’t blame him. After all, demons aren’t exactly the most loved creatures, are they? Kunimi’s a testament to th—

 

Kunimi. The little demon took a knife for Iwaizumi, even knowing that it wouldn’t kill the angel. God, how could he—

 

“Kuroo!” Iwaizumi’s urgent voice cuts through his thoughts. “Come here, I need to know exactly what this is made of.”

 

For a minute, Kuroo can’t bring himself to move. He’s watching Oikawa, the thousands of expressions flitting over Oikawa’s face as he stares at the little demon. _This is the person Iwaizumi said Kunimi sacrificed everything for._

 

“Kuroo, get over here!” Iwaizumi snaps, and Kuroo flinches to attention. Immediately he swoops by the angel’s side; Kunimi’s drawn into Iwaizumi lap, face pale and eyes glazed. When Kuroo kneels close by, a small, pale hand twitches closer to his.

 

God, Kunimi looks so young. So unbearably young. Kuroo moves to hold his hand and winces at how cold it is. He really wishes he had someone to comfort him right now, even though he’s not the one who needs it most.

 

“Oikawa, get over here.” Iwaizumi growls, and that’s when Kuroo realizes how far the older demon is from them. _He’s hovering. He’s afraid of me._ The thought hurts.

 

Oikawa eyes Kuroo warily before sitting crosslegged next to Kunimi’s limp form. The effect is immediate; Iwaizumi hisses in frustration as Kunimi curls closer to Oikawa, making a needy noise in the back of his throat.

 

“Oh, Kunimi-chan,” Oikawa whispers. There are tears in his blood red eyes, and Kuroo wants to comfort the brunette just as much as he wants someone to comfort himself. 

 

“The blade is jade marble and has Aztec lacings, the core handle is silver and ashwood.” Kuroo recites, wincing every time Kunimi shudders.

 

Iwaizumi’s eyes flash and his mouth tightens into a grimace. Not a good sign. Oikawa sucks in a heavy breath and rests his hand against Kunimi’s cheek, brushing his thumb on the soft skin under Kunimi’s eye.

 

“I’m going to die, aren’t I?” Kunimi’s voice is so small.

 

“You’re not,” Iwaizumi says quickly. Too quickly. Kuroo’s eyes narrow.

 

“You’re not,” he repeats. “I spend my life doing stuff like this. I know what I’m doing, just give me a minute.”

 

He needs something to help him think, so he does the only thing he knows for sure will calm him down and reaches over for Oikawa’s free hand. The demon flinches away but Kuroo’s grip is strong enough to keep them connected.

 

Aztec linings. They keep a demon from removing the blade and give the blade a residual pain. Ashwood, in its purest wound, keeps everything from healing. This can prove a fatal combination, but…

 

Kuroo squeezes Oikawa’s warm hand in relief. “I’ve figured it out. Hold him down.”

 

“Wha—“ Kunimi’s eyes flash in fear when Kuroo slips out an obsidian knife and readies it. 

 

“I said hold him down!”

 

Iwaizumi and Oikawa jump to press Kunimi’s limbs to the ground, apologies tumbling over their lips over and over again.

 

“Kunimi, I’m just going to impurify the wound, okay? Then Iwaizumi can heal you.” A pause. “Just try to relax. I’ll make it quick.”

 

Kunimi’s screams fill the air as the knife slips into the wound right next to the dagger, which is quickly and efficiently removed. But as soon as it’s there the knife is gone, and Iwaizumi’s hands begin to glow as he works his magic.

 

The screams don’t stop, not for a few more tense minutes, but when they do Oikawa and Kuroo are still holding hands.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

Life moves in a blur for a solid half hour after Akaashi passes out. All Bokuto can think about is the pain coursing through his pack bonds, raw and unadulterated. There’s a thick overlay of guilt, too, which he thinks is from Kuroo, and genuine fear from Oikawa. They’ll have to clear that up soon if they want to avoid permanently damaging the bond.

 

“Please don’t move,” he begs almost silently, voice cracking. His hand tightly grips Kuroo’s shirt, and he feels his proclaimed best bro make a soothing sound and slide back into place. Just in case, Bokuto wraps his arms around the other and wiggles even closer.

 

“…please tell me I’m dead.” Groans someone.

 

Ah, so Tsukishima’s awake.

 

“Nope,” Oikawa mutters from nearby. “Unfortunately, you’re somehow alive.”

 

“Fuck me.”

 

“Hey,” Kuroo grumbles, trying to maintain a light attitude. “If any fucking’s getting done in this house it better include me.” He flips over so that he and Bokuto are face-to-face, draping an arm over the werewolf.

 

They got back only an hour ago. Although they haven’t talked about what happened at all—which they really need to do, because Bokuto is hella confused—Oikawa hasn’t run away from them yet. That probably has something to do with the little demon resting, unconscious, right behind Kuroo.

 

Akaashi is still passed out, but they moved him up to a bed right when they got back, and Iwaizumi’s up with him working his healing. Now that the imminent danger has passed, and the early morning hour is kicked in, a wave of lethargy washes over them. 

 

“Oi,” Kuroo says when Oikawa gets up.

 

“Don’t worry, Kuroo-chan,” Oikawa smiles bitterly, “I’m just changing into something else. I’ll be right back.”

 

Kuroo sags against Bokuto in defeat, letting out a sigh as Oikawa leaves. “Ah, jeez…”

 

“K-batz, what went down with Ushijima?” Bokuto asks sleepily. “Just a—“ yawn, “—general thing. ‘m too tired. Plus Akaashi’s not awake. And my heart hurts. Too much scary stuff for one night.”

 

There’s a brief, comfortable silence. “…Oikawa is a demon. He used his powers to defeat Ushijima.”

 

Bokuto feels so very tired; as he processes this new information, he lets his head rest against Kuroo’s and closes his eyes. All his muscles tense at once, and when he releases them a surge of relaxation rolls over them. 

 

“Bo?” Kuroo sounds worried at the lack of response. “He’s still the same—“

 

“Demon, huh? Thats,” Bokuto pauses for another yawn, “pretty cool.”

 

His eyes aren’t open, but if they were he’d see Kuroo giving him a warm, gooey smile. 

 

“Not as cool as werewolves though…” He finishes. By the last word he’s asleep.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

By the time they wake up the next day, it’s almost noon. Both Kunimi and Akaashi are awake; Akaashi’s in the kitchen making apple pancakes, and Kunimi is upstairs with Oikawa, lounging in bed while he waits for his senpai to wake up.

 

When Akaashi glances over at the couch he can’t help but smile.

 

Kuroo and Bokuto are like clams, their bodies slotted tightly together. At some point in the night they rolled, Bokuto on top of Kuroo, so that their legs are partially on top of Tsukishima. The demon, who had previously been scowling in i—his sleep, is now smiling. It’s pretty cute.

 

With a sigh, he goes back to the pancakes.

 

“Hey.”

 

He jumps, only to look up and see a bedraggled Iwaizumi. 

 

“Are you tired? We have a guest bedroom, if you’d like.” Akaashi offers.

 

Iwaizumi waves him off. “Angels don’t need as much sleep. I just need a good preening at some point, don’t worry about it.” He takes a seat at the island and watches Akaashi stir the batter. “So, you’re all handling this pretty well.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Well, none of you have tried kicking him out yet. I’d say that’s a pretty good start.” He rests his cheek on his palm and his elbow on the table. 

 

He…Oikawa. Akaashi isn’t certain, since a lot of his memories are fuzzy, but everything points to the other being a demon. 

 

“He was afraid of that?” Akaashi asks softly.

 

“He’s afraid of a lot of things.” Iwaizumi answers. “Are you prepared for that?”

 

“Iwaizumi-san, after my coven died I lived my whole life in fear. He, Kuroo-kun, and Bokuto-kun are the ones who taught me to let go of that. If I can help him a fraction of how he helped me, I will.”

 

“Good,” Iwaizumi says. “Because dealing with him isn’t easy.”

 

Akaashi laughs quietly. “None of us are particularly easy to deal with. That doesn’t mean we’re not worth it.”

 

“Ah, you know what, I get it.” Iwaizumi squints. “I totally see why he’s in love with you.”

 

It’s the first time Akaashi’s heard that word applied to him and his housemates, but for some reason it doesn’t faze him. Probably because he already knows. Because he’s known for a long, long time.

 

“How are your hands?” Iwaizumi asks. He leans in to grab some sliced apples from the bowl by the stove.

 

Akaashi observes his forearms, eyes trailing down to his wrists, palms, and then fingertips. “Your magic is so strong; I feel almost no pain.” He twitches them, observing how the color of his skin changes a couple centimeters below his elbow, greying where the damage had been. “The color is odd, but I don’t think it will fade.”

 

“Iwa-chan, are you bullying people again?” Oikawa strolls in, a fake grin on his face and a sleepy blasphemy tucked under his arm. There’s some redness to the color of his eyes, an unnatural ember color. There’s also a red tinge to them that has nothing to do with magic; his eyes look as watery as his smile.

 

“Good morning, Oikawa-kun,” Akaashi greets the same time Iwaizumi protests, “I wasn’t even talking! Shut up!”

 

Oikawa’s expression is fake-happy and extremely guarded. “Good morning!” He says, ushering Kunimi over to Iwaizumi so the angel can look back over his handiwork.

 

“We should speak over breakfast,” Akaashi says carefully. “…is that alright with you?”

 

“Of course! Why wouldn’t it be?” Oikawa’s grin is unnerving.

 

Akaashi coughs nervously behind one fist, catching Iwaizumi’s eyes. “A-anyway, would you mind helping me with these? They’ll get done faster if two people are frying.”

 

“Fine,” Oikawa chirps. It sends shivers up Akaashi’s spine.

 

For a few minutes, the only sound in the house is the fizzling of pancake batter on the stove. They all work in complete silence, no one daring to break the strained peace hovering over them. Iwaizumi finishes checking Kunimi over, but even as he goes to sit down he maintains the silence. Eventually, it’s Kunimi who breaks it.

 

He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out some bunched up foil. As he curls it apart, he retrieves little pieces of chocolate. Akaashi’s eyes widen.

 

“Oh,” he murmurs, and that gets Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s attention. They glance over.

 

“Kunimi-chan?” Oikawa asks, half curious and half guarded. The littler demon pops a chunk of chocolate into his mouth.

 

“…since I can’t eat the pancakes,” he says. 

 

“Eh?”

 

“Akaashi-senpai charmed it. It won’t make me sick.”

 

“Actually,” Akaashi adds as Kunimi offers his senpai a piece, “the pancakes are charmed as well. You should be able to eat anything you find here.”

 

Oikawa’s eyes are wide as he leans over the countertop and accepts the chocolate. When he eats it his eyes get even wider, and he looks between Kunimi and Akaashi for a few seconds before crumbling.

 

“Ngh,” Akaashi grunts as strong arms wrap around his back and squeeze in a desperate hug. Trembling all over, Oikawa’s hands bury into the back of Akaashi’s sweatshirt and hold on tight. After recovering from the momentary shock Akaashi returns the hug, rubbing one hand up and down Oikawa’s back and carding the other through soft brown hair as the demon sobs.

 

“I—I—“ Oikawa tries to speak, but can’t. In between attempts he sucks in air, his sobs wracking his body. 

 

“I know,” Akaashi closes his eyes to keep his own tears at bay. It pains him to hear how much fear Oikawa built up, how much it resembles his own fears after the death of his coven. How afraid Akaashi was for the others to find out he’s a witch…it’s the same, in the end. “I know, trust me. I’m so sorry, Oikawa.”

 

It feels strange to drop the honorifics, but in this case Akaashi knows he probably won’t be using them again. Oikawa clutches tighter to his sweatshirt, his cries settling into quiet whimpers. 

 

“I—I thought—“ he whispers like it’s a secret, “I thought you wouldn’t love me anymore.”

 

It makes Akaashi sick to his stomach, because he knows, had none of this happened and he had found out, he would not be so compassionate. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and thanked the heavens that Iwaizumi lashed out at him during the summon.

 

“Of course I still love you,” Akaashi murmurs, pressing their cheeks together. Oikawa’s is wet with tears, flushed and burning hot, but none of that makes them pull away.

 

Iwaizumi coughs. “Uh, I’m really glad that you two sorted that shit out. But the pancakes are burning.”

 

They both freeze. The quiet, painful moment is passed and the angel couldn’t have had better timing.  
 “Iwa-chaaaaaan,” Oikawa moans, voice still wavering with emotion. “You have _no sense_ for reading the mood!”

 

Despite his annoyed words, when he glances over at Akaashi he has a relieved look in his red-rimmed eyes.

 

‘ _Thank you_ ’ he mouths. Akaashi just smiles.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

 

“Did we miss something?” Kuroo grunts, arm slung around Bokuto’s shoulders as they stumble into the kitchen. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, and various fruit are all collected in bowls and on plates on the island countertop. Everyone else is already seated, though Iwaizumi is the only one without a plate. There are three empty seats beside the angel, but Tsukishima is still passed out and healing from last night.

 

“Nope!” Bokuto hums, sitting down. His grin is wide and happy.

 

“Liar,” Kuroo mutters good-naturedly, before speaking up, “Okay. Since about 99% of our problems seem to be caused by miscommunication, I’m calling it. What the fuck happened last night? Akaashi, you first.”

 

Akaashi shrugs, perturbed. “I don’t remember a lot. The Lord was trapped in the circle, but he could use magic. I spent most of my energy just trying to contain him. Tsukishima-san lost and Iwaizumi-san entered the circle. Then…I remember the Lord lifting Oikawa into the air. That’s about it.”

 

“Hm,” Kuroo says. “Alright. Well, Oikawa.” The demon glances over at him. “Our plan was to contain him long enough for Tsukishima to beat him. Bokuto, Akaashi, Iwaizumi, and I were all hidden out of sight, so that when Kunimi drew him out we could trap him.”

 

“That’s…” There’s a mixed look on Oikawa’s face. It’s the expression of someone who’s thinking ‘that’s really stupid’ but doesn’t want to say it out loud.

 

“In our defense, we didn’t know he could use all magic.”

 

“Tsukishima was losing,” Iwaizumi cuts in. “And I could barely heal anymore. So I left Akaashi and told Kuroo to get behind Ushijima. That should’ve broken the containment seal, but—“ his eyes flashed, “I underestimated Akaashi; I didn’t realize he would force himself to keep it up. That’s why his hands got so injured.” 

 

“He’s more powerful than he looks,” Bokuto announces proudly, reaching around Iwaizumi to pat his housemate’s back. Akaashi smiles in return and Bokuto’s expression turns even brighter.

 

“Anyway,” Iwaizumi continues. “My plan worked—Kuroo stabbed him in the back—but Ushijima didn’t die. He seized us both with magic, and…” He trails off, looking upset. They all turn to see Kunimi’s reaction, but the littler demon’s expression is blank.

 

“I got stabbed.” He finishes.

 

Oikawa’s horrified expression makes them all backtrack.

 

“Saving me!” Iwaizumi assures. “He stepped in front of the blade before Ushijima could stab me.” There’s regret and guilt in the underbelly of his words, and they don’t go unnoticed.

 

“We all fucked up, okay? So let’s just get over it and move on.” Kuroo says, turning to Oikawa. “That’s when you came in, yeah? You know how the rest goes.”

 

“Yeah, but I don’t.” Bokuto says. “The demon lord knocked me out. What happened?”

 

“I…Tsukishima told me that you were going to do it last night, but I didn’t actually think…” Oikawa pauses as they all watch him intently. His hands begin tearing at his napkin. “I didn’t realize he was that serious. Or that you would listen to him. When I sensed Kunimi-chan’s aura, and then Ushiwaka’s…” A swallow. “I—I panicked. I don’t really remember how I found you guys, I just came as fast as I could.”

 

“Hey, no one’s blaming you. Idiot.” Iwaizumi says gently.

 

“Yeah, but—but _why_?!” Oikawa exclaims. “I don’t get it! This is _all my fault_! I’m the one who drew him here, I’m the one who hid my identity when all of you told me yours! When I _forced you to tell me yours_! I’m the one who lied, who ran away and didn’t face him because I was afraid! How can you still look at me when I—“ his voice fails for a minute. “When I can barely look at myself?” He whispers. With his shoulders hunched in and his head ducked, he looks terribly small.

 

“Oikawa.” All eyes in the room snap to the doorway, where a very tired, very bruised Tsukishima is leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “Don’t you get it yet? You fucking _give up_ on people.”

 

Bokuto stands out of his chair, eyes angry. “Hey!” He exclaims, “you can’t just—“

 

“Oh, I can just!” Tsukishima bites back, attention still on Oikawa. “You gave up on Iwaizumi so he wouldn’t get hurt. You gave up on your housemates because you were afraid they’d hate you. You gave up on me when I called you out on your shit. And how did that work out?”

 

“Oi,” Iwaizumi tries to interrupt, but Tsukishima’s on a roll. He kicks off the wall and takes a step forward.

 

“Most of all, you give up on _yourself_. Yeah, you should have communicated more. You should’ve listened. You should’ve this, you should’ve that. So what? We all have those lists, and you don’t seem to care about how much everyone else has fucked up. What makes you so special? Is it because you’re a demon? Are you somehow more irredeemable than Kunimi and I? Give it up. You’re full of shit.”

 

Oikawa stares at him like he’s grown two heads, and when he opens his mouth to respond yet another person interrupts him.

 

“I agree,” Kunimi says quietly. Oikawa’s mouth drops open in shock. “You don’t listen. We care about you. That’s not going to stop just because you mess up. You’re not just going to stop being worth caring about just because you mess up.”

 

“I…” Oikawa gets about that far before he bursts into tears again. Rolling his eyes, Tsukishima gives a little huff and leans back, probably with the intention to leave, but before he can Kuroo snags his jacket and tugs him over.

 

“What a big speech from a hypocrite,” he croons, hooking his arm around Tsukishima’s neck to drag him even closer. “You’re redeemable too, Tsukki~”

 

“Shut up!” Tsukishima snarls. He doesn’t get up from the table though.

 

Oikawa lets out a shaky laugh and makes a grab at the sliced apples across the counter, tears still streaming down his cheeks. “When I got to you guys, all I saw was Ushiwaka-chan stabbing…and I lost it. He didn’t know what my human form looked like exactly, since it’s been so long. When he ripped out my heart I used the portal to sever his body spiritually and physically.”

 

“Translation: he fucking beheaded the lord.” Kuroo says smugly. “It was badass.” He gives his teary-eyed housemate a high-five.

 

“Portal?” Akaashi asks curiously.

 

Kunimi is the one to answer. “When we rip out our hearts, they open a portal to our world on the next surface they touch.”

 

“They—what.” 

 

Everyone at the table stares at the three demons seated among them.

 

“…what the fuck?” Kuroo says. “I’ve been hunting rogue demons for years. How did I not know this? Also, what the hell, you guys can _rip out your own hearts_?”

 

“ _You guys get your own world?!_ ” Bokuto looks ecstatic. 

 

Tsukishima sighs and pushes the hunter away. “What happened after that?” He changes the subject, if only to keep Oikawa from working up his own emotions again.

 

“Nothing. We came back here, got patched up. Slept.” Kuroo shrugs. He reaches for the same pancake as Bokuto and barely manages to snatch it first. “Now we’re here.”

 

“So then, what next?” Bokuto asks.

 

“Well,” Akaashi replies between bites of orange, “I think we all need a good shower. Let’s start with that.”

 

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

 

The second they’re upstairs Kunimi drops like a deadweight onto Oikawa’s bed and shuffles until he’s immersed in the fluffy white comforter. Laughing quietly, Oikawa sits down on the edge and rests his hand in Kunimi’s hair as the other drifts off, then turns when Iwaizumi sits next to him.

 

“His creations?” Iwaizumi asks.

 

Oikawa lets out a deep breath and smiles at the ceiling. “Kunimi and I are all that’s left. I thought there would be a few other survivors, maybe ones he let get away. I was wrong.”

 

“And…your heart?”

 

“I don’t know. There’s no rulebook for being a demon, Iwa-chan.”

 

_Whack_. “Idiot. You know that’s not what I meant.”

 

“I know.” Oikawa hums. He rests his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Iwaizumi wraps his arm around Oikawa and pulls him closer, leaning into it. “Hey, Hajime?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“If I did manage to get my heart back—if I became human again, that wouldn’t matter. Right? No one would care?”

 

“What are you trying to say?”

 

“I think, I think if I let myself love them…I think I could do it—become human. If I tried.”

 

There’s a long silence. “Just do what’s best for you,” Iwaizumi murmurs against Oikawa’s hair, “and we’ll all love you anyway.”

 

“Iwa-chan? Thanks. I think I get it now.”

 

“It’s about damn time, idiot.”

 

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

 

Tsukishima stands in the doorway for a long, long time. For once, his mind feels peacefully blank. In the corner of his eye he thinks he can see a small figure in the forest, watching them, a glow emitting from their hands. He thinks he might recognize the figure. But then he blinks and they’re gone.

 

“You look like you have a lot on your mind,” Kuroo says. He leans against the counter so they’re facing each other. “Any reason why you’re loitering in our pantry doorway?”

 

“I’m not. They asked me to put away the pancake mix.”

 

“..and?”

 

“This door’s lined with ashwood; I’m stuck.”

 

“What?”

 

“I can’t move. Get me the fuck out.”

 

Kuroo looks stuck between cooing and laughing. “Ahaha! We must’ve forgotten to fix that. I wonder how Oikawa’s been baking all this time.” He strolls over and reaches up to the top of the doorframe. With one quick movement he cracks the wood, and Tsukishima’s quick to move away.

 

“Thanks, asshole.” He says gruffly. Kuroo titters.

 

“So mean~ I expect you to have better manners the next time you’re over.”

 

“Who says I’ll be coming back?”

 

They stare at each other, Tsukishima with narrowed eyes and Kuroo with amused, knowing ones. Finally the blonde breaks their eye contact and scowls, storming away.

 

“C’mon, don’t be like that!” Kuroo half-laughs as the other reaches the front door. “Where are you even going?”

 

Tsukishima turns. “Home,” he says. Then he’s out the door, closing it loudly behind him.

 

He doesn’t look back.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

 

They wait until they’re all freshly showered to speak in private. Oikawa looks a little nervous to be alone with them, but there’s no fear in his eyes. Not anymore.

 

Bokuto waits about five seconds after the door shuts to proclaim loudly, “I love all of you, and I think all of you love me, so I think that’s all there is to it!”

 

“But—“

 

“No buts!” Bokuto interrupts Oikawa. To prove his point he steps forward, backing his housemate into the wall before gently leaning forward and pressing their lips together.

 

The effect is immediate. All of the tension leaves Oikawa’s body as he sinks into Bokuto, expression calmer now that he has an outlet for his nerves. They exchange a few pepper kisses before Bokuto bites at Oikawa’s lips, then swipes his tongue over the sensitive flesh. Oikawa gasps in surprise, his eyes flaring red as he grips Bokuto’s shoulders and succumbs to the pleasure.

 

“See!” Bokuto says when they pull apart. “It’s simple! You guys are overthinking it! Kuroo, do _you_ love me?”

 

“Bro, B-dawg, do you even have to ask that?” Kuroo grins and leans in for a kiss of his own. This one is more violent, more aggressive: two alphas fighting for dominance. Bokuto curls his fingers around Kuroo’s wrist and surges into the other, and Akaashi catches Oikawa’s eyes. They’re both thinking the same thing and immediately blush.

 

“Mmph?” Kuroo makes a muffled noise when he notices the other two, both bright red. When Bokuto lets go of his wrist and turns to see what got his attention, he cocks his head to the side.

 

“Huh? What is it?”

 

“I just—I can’t believe—“ Oikawa tries. Akaashi’s not in much better shape.

 

“That was just—I just—“ 

 

“That was really hot,” they both finish. 

 

“What, me and Kuroo, or…?” Something seems to click in Bokuto’s mind and he whips around and grins at Kuroo. Kuroo takes a step back and raises an eyebrow.

 

“Hey, now, let’s not—“

 

That’s as far as he gets before he’s tackled and subsequently pinned to Akaashi’s bed. 

 

“Dogpile!” Bokuto cheers. “Snuggle puddle!”

 

Oikawa rolls his eyes but hops onto the bed, and Akaashi is quick to join.

 

“But what about—“

 

“I said no!” Bokuto exclaims in Oikawa’s ear, face set. “I’m sorry. I can’t handle any more right now. We can deal with the other stuff later, but we’ve all been through something really really scary and traumatic and I just want to be with you guys for a minute, okay?”

 

“Oh!” Kuroo says, nonplussed. He glances at Akaashi and Oikawa, looking to lighten the mood. “You two should kiss now.”

 

Akaashi doesn’t waste any time; he rolls over Bokuto and Kuroo so he can straddle Oikawa’s hips. For a few seconds they hold eye contact, as if both asking permission and granting it at the same time. Then they both lean in, softly pressing their lips together. It’s chaste, but by the time they part Bokuto and Kuroo are watching them with wide eyes.

 

“You two are _so amazing_.” Bokuto says. “I can’t believe I get all of you guys. This is awesome.”

 

“There’s a lot of stuff we need to work out,” Akaashi reminds him. “This is the farthest we’ll get for a while.”

 

“So? We’re all together! It’ll be _fine_.” 

 

Kuroo snorts. “Took you guys long enough.”

 

“Hey! You didn’t make any moves either!”

 

“I’ll have you know that before today I’ve kissed both you and Akaashi. I would’ve kissed you too, Oikawa, but you shoved a cupcake in my face.”

 

“What?! That’s not fair!” Bokuto whines.

 

“We’ll all be kissing each other in the future,” Akaashi reminds him. “You don’t really want to keep score, do you?”

 

Bokuto shifts on the bed so that he can press a few kisses to all of their cheeks. When he’s done he throws his arms out so he can bunch them all in closer together, earning a choked noise from Oikawa and a half-hearted tsk from Kuroo.

 

“Of course I do! Whoever reaches a million first wins!”

 

“A mi—do you even know how much that is?” Kuroo wheezes in laughter. He curls an arm around Oikawa’s waist and shuffles the brunette impossibly closer.

 

“Well, that’s how many I intend to get!” Bokuto announces. “Each!”

 

“That’s impossible,” Oikawa says, but he’s smiling. He also looks close to crying again.

 

“And Kuroo has a head start! So I’ll make it up. Now’s fine, right?”

 

Bokuto doesn’t wait to ask, because he already knows the answer.

 

 

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

 

It’s been less than a week since the incident. Copper leaves flood the forest floor, rustling in the lazy wind. They brush the cement patio of the cafe as Tsukishima slumps into a chair. The first snowflakes of the winter season lazily drift down, light and small enough not to leave any trace on the ground.

 

“So, it’s you.” He says, pouring himself some tea.

 

“It’s me.” Kenma nods. “Hello, Legion.”

 

“Yeah, says the King of Hell.”

 

Kenma’s expression gets shadier. “I’m not anymore.” He says.

 

“No, now you’re just a meddling human. Totally defenseless and innocent. I forgot.” Tsukishima deadpans.

 

The other looks annoyed. “Why are you here?” He asks flatly.

 

“I came to say thanks.”

 

Kenma’s eyes widen in surprise as the other heaves a sigh, the kind from someone about to lay it out straight.

 

“You’re the one who made sure Oikawa found us, aren’t you?” Tsukishima says. “You’re not supposed to have a soul, but that’s total bs, isn’t it?”

 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“Please,” Tsukishima scoffs. “If you had no soul, you wouldn’t have saved all those idiots. Hell, you probably knew seeing them all would help _me_ , too.”

 

“You all met by chance.”

 

“Yeah, right. I’m on to you.” Tsukishima narrows his eyes. “Kuroo changed you. The last time we met, hunters terrified you. Well. As much as anything could.”

 

“We’ve all changed,” Kenma shrugs. “That’s life.”

 

Tsukishima laughs sharply. “Yeah, it is.” He takes a sip of tea. “You knew about Ushijima when he was first created?”

 

“The demon with no heart.” Kenma acknowledges.

 

“He really didn’t have one? That’s why he kept stealing everyone else’s?”

 

Kenma takes a long draw of tea. When he sets the cup down, he stands up and grabs his PSP. “There are some things that even demons can’t steal, Kei.” A strong breeze billows by the cafe. “Send my regards to Shoyo and the others.” He leaves with the wind, strolling into the forest. Tsukishima shakes his head.

 

“Damn,” he grins. How obnoxious.


	2. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HEYYYYY I AM REPOSTING THIS TO ANNOUNCE THAT THE NEXT PART OF THIS SERIES IS UP!!!!! I would be honoured if you gave it a read & review!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 
> 
> thank you to everyone who supported this work!!!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a little look into the part I am writing about Tsukishima! Please comment on what you think~
> 
> The plot and the characters i will introduce to this arc have already been set. But if there is a character you really want to see, comment and i will do my best to include them, no matter how briefly!
> 
> again please please comment!! your feedback is extremely motivating

Rust cakes the walls and a web of pipes create the strange sense of the ceiling not existing. A quiet symphony of clicks and whirrs plays on, a telltale sign that the factory—what he assumes is a factory—is not as abandoned as his captors think. 

His hands are pale. They’re strapped to the the table with thick leather, so that his palms are pressed to the wet steel. There’s no singular light, but his eyes have adjusted enough to the darkness that he can see what he needs to. He can’t feel his hands, but that’s for the best. The leather straps aren’t the only things keeping them on the table.

The door scrapes open and he winces as three figures saunter in. 

“So,” the leader drawls. “This is the one who they say knows _his_ location? He doesn’t look like much.”

__

_The second birthday of his life that Tsukishima remembers is the day he turns six._

_It’s nothing special. He doesn’t know why he remembers it so clearly. Just like every previous year, Daichi and Sugawara throw him a party. It’s small; they don’t know that many angels since the last Falling was recent, and the other creatures and humans they know can’t visit heaven. The Futakuchi and Kozume family covens sent their regards, but even their magic could not traverse the distance of the universes._

_Even though it’s his party, most of the time is spent like it is every other day: caring for the fledgelings. Hinata and Yachi are still too young to walk and Kageyama, while a bit older, can’t look after himself at all. They have to be very carefully watched, especially since as Bene Elohims they age slower than Seraphs. Tsukishima’s first few birthdays had passed so quickly he can barely even remember them._

_It’s fine, though. Tsukishima is a quiet child, and he doesn’t like his birthday very much._

__

 

“Are you sure we have the right one?” One of the wannabes asks. “He’s a little…”

“Quiet,” says the other, “and weak-looking, and pretty, and _young_. Seriously, boss, he looks like he’s made of porcelain.”

The boss’ steps echo even in the small room, the sound traveling up and up into the pipes like whispers.

“This is the right one,” he says. He sounds very sure of himself. To be fair, he looks like the classic mob boss—a sharp shoulder-padded black suit, a dark red tie, a strong jaw, one of those ugly fedoras…he even had a fat cigar smoking between his fingers. As if remembering this the boss takes a deep inhalation and breathes out smoke.

“Pretty little Akira,” he hums. The boy doesn’t flinch, his half-lidded eyes sweeping around the room. “Oh, come now. Won’t you let me see those pretty eyes?”

Kunimi really wishes people would stop calling him pretty. Not to say that he doesn’t appreciate the sentiment, at least when it’s from Oikawa and his boyfriends. But the majority of the time, it’s not. It’s from creeps like this.

The man cups Kunimi’s cheek and rubs a calloused thumb over his cheekbone.

“Like a woman’s,” he murmurs, entranced. Kunimi wishes the others were here. He wishes he had put himself first in their priorities, hadn’t said, “it’s ok” to their “are you sure”s. Shivers run down his spine. He hasn’t felt this threatened, this violated since…

 _Since Ushijima_ hisses a voice in the back of his head.

Funny. He never imagined himself the type to make the sacrifice play. Not like this. Not for someone like—

“You know what we want,” the boss hums. His lips are chapped and gross as they brush Kunimi’s ear. “Give us what we want. _Akira_.”

 

__

_The third birthday Tsukishima can remember in his lifetime, he is ten. He’s aged quite a bit since his last, now possessing the body of a fourteen year-old. His wings are close to fully-grown, and he knows he’ll be their fastest flyer by his next birthday. That’s what Yamaguchi says, at least._

_Before anyone else wakes up, Tsukishima grabs some things for the day and dips quietly out of the nesting ground. He doesn’t like his birthday, and even though he tells them that, they insist on celebrating it._

_He’d just rather be alone._

_The air of Iceland is both cold and welcoming at the same time. He likes Iceland, because the people are nice but not pushy and most of them can see and even speak to him as-is. They’re frighteningly keen with their sixth sense, but it’s nice, in a way. It’s nice to be around strangers who are good people and who don’t know it’s his birthday. He’s even certain that if they knew and he asked them not to do anything, they wouldn’t._

_They’d listen._

_He goes to the bed and breakfast he likes, and the server there smiles at him and brings him his tea. He leans back against the window, his wings tucked into his back like a big pillow, and he watches._

_No one here knows it’s his birthday. No one here will pester him, or throw unwanted gifts in his face. They won’t _touch him_ despite knowing he dislikes hugs. He honestly can’t believe he didn’t think about coming here for his other birthdays. It’s like breathing fresh air again._

_He closes his eyes and relishes in the fact that he is alone._

_All alone.  
_

“Just tell us where he is and this will end,” the boss coos. There’s a hammer in his right hand, untouched by Kunimi’s blood. The nail driven into the palm of the demon’s hand is wedged farther down than it was before; the head is pressed firmly to Kunimi’s skin. His entire arm throbs and tears prick at his eyes.

He misses Oikawa. He misses Akaashi making him food, and Kuroo ruffling his hair, and Bokuto’s obnoxious snoring. He misses that house in all its warmth and quiet. Most of all, he misses waking up in Oikawa’s bed, tucked between an angel and a demon, staring out at the sky through those beautifully massive skylights as the night morphs to dawn. 

He misses home.

“We just need a location, little bird,” the boss says. He pats the hammer with his free palm and leans against the table.

“I don’t know,” Kunimi whispers. It’s desperate. They’re the first words he’s said in days, and they sound _miserable_. So miserable, he supposes, that the boss believes him.

In an instant the hammer is clanging to the floor, the boss kneeling by Kunimi’s chair to take the demon’s cheeks in both hands. 

“Oh, my sweet little Akira. You should have said something earlier!” Breath puffs out like smoke into Kunimi’s face. “Don’t worry, I believe you. But I know you know something. All I need is a way to find him. Anything! Do you know where he has a safe house? Do you know his friends?”

Kunimi thinks of the house. He thinks of the copious plants that Oikawa waters every morning, and the smell of apple pastries. He thinks of helping Bokuto break the shelf to kill the spider inside it, and thinks of helping Akaashi fix it. He thinks of Kuroo making them all hot chocolate and listening to the sounds of the rain. He thinks of—

“He has no home,” Kunimi rasps. “Or friends.”

It’s a lie.

 

__

_Tsukishima’s most recent birthday is one that he will never forget. He is on the verge of eighteen, and looks as old as twenty. Ever since his last birthday he’s been able to control his aging process, and has decided he doesn’t want to age until Kageyama and the others catch up._

_It’s not really because of them, he tells himself. (But it is)._

_The others know better now than to try and celebrate. He’s spent years escaping them, and by this time he knows how to hide. He’s become not only the fastest angel, matched in speed by no other, but also the most reclusive. If he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be._

_But, despite his plans to spend the day doing nothing, he can’t deny Yamaguchi’s request._

_After that first birthday in Iceland, it didn’t take long for Yamaguchi to beg Tsukishima a trip to Earth. The brunette missed it for so long, and Tsukishima found he couldn’t do anything but address each whim to visit. And so that day, Tsukishima’s birthday, he listened to Yamaguchi’s pleading and agreed to show him another part of Earth._

_They left, and that was Tsukishima’s last day in Heaven. It was the most recent birthday that Tsukishima could recall._

_And it was also his last._

__

“Why do you want him so badly?” Kunimi rasps. It’s been three—no. Four. Four days since the last interrogation. The boss is getting impatient. He is also running out of nails.

(Kunimi’s had worse. But he doesn’t say so.)

“Why?” The boss laughs. “Why? Because, my dear Akira. I’m the one who killed him the first time. And I’m looking forward to the second time _even more_.” 

He laughs in his throat, deep and raspy, and sits on the table right by Kunimi’s fingertips. He leans in close, his hand gently grasping Kunimi’s throat, and presses their cheeks together. 

“I will ask one last time,” he whispers. “ _Where can I find Tsukishima Kei_?”


End file.
